ib. 


■  %■• 


PORTIA 


Copyright,    1901 

By 

THE    UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


PR 


'R 
M 

THE   MERCHANT   OF  VENICE. 
Preface, 

The  Editions.  Two  Quarto  editions  of  The  Merchant 
of  Venice  were  printed  in  the  year  1600,  with  the  follow- 
ing title-pages : — 

(i.)  The  Excellent  History  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice. 
With  the  extreme  cruelty  of  Shylocke  the  Jew  towards  the 
said  Merchant,  in  cutting  a  just  pound  of  his  flesh.  And 
the  obtaining  of  Portia,  by  the  choyse  of  three  Caskets. 
Written  by  W.  Shakespeare.  Printed  by  J.  Roberts,  1600. 
This  Quarto  had  been  registered  on  July  22nd,  1598,  with 
the  proviso  "  that  yt  bee  not  printed  by  the  said  James 
Robertes  or  anye  other  whatsoueuer  without  lycence  first 
had  from  the  Right  honorable  the  lord  chamberlen."  This 
edition  is  generally  described  as  'the  first  Quarto.'  (ii.) 
The  most  Excellent  Historic  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice. 
With  the  extreame  crueltie  of  Shylocke  the  J  ewe  towards 
the  sayd  Merchant,  in  cutting  a  just  pound  of  his  flesh: 
and  the  obtayning  of  Portia  by  the  choyse  of  three  chests. 
As  it  hath  beene  diners  times  acted  by  the  Lord  Chamber- 
laine  his  seruants.  Written  by  William  Shakespeare.  At 
London.  Printed  by  I.  R.  for  Thomas  Heycs,  and  are  to 
be  sold  in  Paules  Church-yard,  at  the  signe  of  the  Greene 
Dragon.  1600.  This,  the  second  Quarto,  had  been  en- 
tered in  the  Stationers'  Registers  on  the  28th  of  October 
of  the  same  year  '  under  the  handes  of  the  Wardens  and  by 
consent  of  master  Robertes.'  It  seems  therefore  likely 
that '  I.  R.'  are  the  initials  of  the  printer  of  the  first  Quarto, 
though  the  same  type  was  not  used  for  the  two  editions, 
which  were  evidently  printed  from  different  transcripts  of 
the  author's  manuscript.     Quarto  1  gives  on  the  whole  a 


Preface  THE  MERCHANT 

more  accurate  text ;  in  a  few  instances  it  is  inferior  to 
Quarto  2. 

The  second  Quarto  was  carelessly  reprinted  in  1637,  the 
only  addition  being  a  list  of  '  The  Actors'  Names  ' ;  in  one 
instance  it  improved  on  the  previous  editions  ('  in  measure 
reine  thy  joy/  III.  ii.  112,  instead  of  '  rain').  A  fourth 
Quarto,  probably  the  third  with  a  new  title-page,  ap- 
peared in  1652.  Prof.  Hales  has  suggested  that  the  pub- 
lication of  this  Quarto  was  connected  with  the  proposed 
re-admission  of  the  Jews  into  England,  which  was  bitterly 
resented  by  a  large  portion  of  the  nation  ;  '  the  re-exhibi- 
tion of  Shylock  in  1652  could  scarcely  have  tended  to 
soften  this  general  disposition.' 

The  text  of  the  first  Folio  edition  ( 1623)  represents  that 
of  the  second  Quarto  with  a  few  variations,  the  most  inter- 
esting being  the  change  of  '  the  Scottish  lord  '  into  '  the 
other  lord,'  evidently  in  deference  to  the  reigning  king. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  '  low 
comedy '  version,  '  The  Jew  of  Venice/  by  George  Gran- 
ville, Viscount  Lansdowne,  supplanted  Shakespeare's 
play,  and  held  the  stage  from  the  date  of  its  appearance  in 
1701  ;  Macklin's  revival  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice  at  the 
Drury  Lane  in  1741  dealt  a  death-blow  to  Lansdowne's 
monstrosity,  and  restored  again  to  the  stage 

'  The  Jew 
That  Shakespeare  drew.' 

The  Original  Shylock.  In  the  Funeral  Elegy  of  the 
famous  actor,  Richard  Burbadge,  '  who  died  on  Saturday 
in  Lent,  the  13th  of  March,  161 8,'  there  is  a  valuable  ref- 
erence to  Burbadge's  impersonation  of  Shylock : — 

"Heart-broke  Philaster,  and  Amintas  too, 
Are  lost  for  ever;  with  the  red-haired  Jew, 
Which  sought  the  bankrupt  merchant's  pound  of  flesh, 
By  woman-lawyer  caught  in  his  own  mesh; 
What  a  wide  world  was  in  that  little  space, 
Thyself  a  world — the  Globe  thy  fittest  place" 


OF  VENICE 


Preface 


(For  the  interpretation  of  the  character  by  Macklin,  Kean, 
Irving,  and  Booth,  cp.  Furness'  Variorum  edition,  pp. 
37I-385-)* 

Date  of  Composition.  The  Merchant  of  Venice  is 
mentioned  by  Francis  Meres  in  his  Palladis  Tam'xa,  1598; 
in  the  same  year  Roberts  entered  it  on  the  Books  of  the 
Stationers'  Company.  This  is  the  earliest  positive  allusion 
to  the  play.  A  noteworthy  imitation  of  the  moonlight 
scene  between  Lorenzo  and  Jessica  occurs  in  the  play  Wily 
Beguiled,  probably  written  in  1596-7.  In  Henslowe's 
Diary,  under  the  date  '  August  25th,   1594/  mention  is 


Xopc^.  compotirulinfl     io     voyson      the      Qjieene 
From  Carleton's  'Thankfull  Remembrance.  (1624). 

made  of  ''  The  JTencsyon  Comodcy'  (i.e.  (  The  Venetian 
Comedy  ')  asa  new  play  ;  one  cannot,  however,  with  any 
certainty  identify  Henslowe's  comedy  with  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  though  it  seems  likely  that  we  have  here  a  refer- 
ence to  a  rough  draft  of  the  play  as  we  know  it, — a  partial 

*  The  most  valuable  of  all  the  editions  of  the  play  (published  by 
Lippencott,  1892).  edited  by  Horace  Howard  Furness. 


Preface  •  THE  MERCHANT 

revision  of  some  older  play  used  by  Shakespeare,  hastily 
re-written  to  satisfy  popular  feeling  against  Dr.  Roderigo 
Lopez,  the  queen's  Jewish  physician,  who  was  executed 
on  the  7th  of  June,  1594,  on  the  charge  of  being  bribed  by 
the  King  of  Spain  to  poison  the  Queen  (cp.  The  Original 
of  Shylock,  by  S.  L.  Lee,  Gentleman's  Magazine,  io3o; 
the  article  on  '  Lopez '  in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biog- 
raphy; c  the  Conspiracy  of  Dr.  Lopez,"  The  Historical  Re- 
view, July  1894) .  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  Lopez's  chief 
rival  was  the  pretender  Don  Antonio* 

Finally,  Shakespeare's  debt  to  Silvayn's  Orator  has  an 
important  bearing  on  the  date  of  the  play;  the  English 
translation  appeared  in  1596;  it  is  just  possible,  but  un- 
likely, that  Shakespeare  had  read  the  work  in  the  original 
French.  The  play  may  perhaps  safely  be  dated  '  about 
1596  ' ;  the  evidence  will  allow  of  nothing  more  definite. 

The  Sources.  In  1579  Stephen  Gosson,  who  had  him- 
self been  a  writer  of  plays,  published  his  "  School  of 
Abuse,"  containing  "  a  pleasant  invective  against  Poets, 
Pipers,  Players,  jesters  and  such-like  Caterpillars  of  a 
Commonwealth:  setting  up  the  flag  of  defiance  to  their 
mischievous  exercise,  etc.,  etc."  ;  the  book  is  a  vigorous 
attack  on  the  acted  drama ;  yet  he  confesses  that  some  of 
their  plays  are  without  rebuke ;   '  which  are  easily  remem- 

*  Lopez  was  for  a  time  attached  to  the  household  of  Lord 
Leicester.  James  Burbadge,  the  father  of  Richard  Burbadge,  one 
of  '  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  company  of  servants  and  players,'  must 
have  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  Lopez,  when  the  doctor 
was  attending  the  Earl  at  Kenilworth.  It  has  been  suggested  that 
the  traditional  red  beard  of  Shylock  was  actually  derived  from 
Burbadge's  personal  knowledge  of  Lopez.  But  it  is  now  generally 
accepted  on  ample  evidence  that  there  were  many  Jews  scattered 
throughout  England  in  the  Elizabethan  period,  though  their  for- 
mal re-admission  was  brought  about  by  Cromwell.  Queen  Eliza- 
beth seems  to  have  had  her  very  strong  doubts  as  to  Lopez's 
alleged  guilt,  but  his  enemies  were  evidently  determined  to  get  rid 
of  him.  The  accounts  of  the  trial  are  interesting  reading,  from 
many  points  of  view. 


OF  VENICE  Preface 

bered  as  quickly  reckoned' ;'  he  proceeds  to  enumerate 
four  plays ;  one  of  these  The  Jew,  shown  at  the  Bull, 
seems  to  have  been  the  groundwork  of  Shakespeare's  play, 
'representing,'  as  Gosson  tells  us,  'the  greediness  of 
worldly  choosers,  and  bloody  minds  of  usurers/  It  is 
clear  from  these  words  that  the  blending  of  '  The  Bond 
Story  '  and  '  The  Three  Caskets  '  was  already  an  accom- 
plished fact  in  English  dramatic  literature  as  early  as  1579. 
There  is  probably  a  reference  to  this  old  play  in  a  letter  of 
Spenser  to  Gabriel  Harvey  of  the  same  year,  1579,  in 
which  he  signs  himself  '  He  that  is  fast  bound  unto  thee 
in  more  obligations  than  any  merchant  of  Italy  to  any 
Jew  there  ' ;  and  again  perhaps  the  Jew  Gerontus  in  The 
Three  Ladies  of  London  (printed  in  1584),  who  tries  to 
recover  a  loan  of  "  three  thousand  ducats  for  three  month" 
from  an  Italian  merchant  Mercatore,  may  have  been  de- 
rived from  the  same  source.  "  Gernutus  '•'  was  possibly 
the  name  of  Shylock's  prototye ;  he  is  the  hero  of  an  old 
ballad  dealing  with  '  the  bond  story.'  Its  omission  of  all 
reference  to  Portia  makes  it  probable  that  this  ballad  pre- 
ceded Shakespeare's  play,  though  the  extant  text  belongs 
to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  or  to  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century.* 

There  are  many  analogues  in  European  and  Oriental  lit- 
erature to  the  two  stories  which  constitute  the  main  plot  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice.  As  far  as  the  pound  of  flesh 
and  the  lady- judge  is  concerned,  the  Italian  story  in  the 
Pecorone  of  Ser.  Giovanni  Fiorentino  is  alone  of  direct 
importance  as  an  ultimate  source  of  the  play  {cp.  Hazlitt's 

*"  A  new  song,  shelving  the  cruelty  of  Gernutus  a  Jew,  who 
lending  to  a  Marchant  a  hundred  crowns,  would  have  a  pound  of 
his  Flesh,  because  he  could  not  pay  him  at  the  day  appointed.  To 
the  Tune  of  Black  and  Yellow"  {cp.  Percy's  Rcliques,  etc.;  the 
text  will  be  found  in  most  editions  of  the  play).  This  ballad 
must  be  distinguished  from  Jordan's  ballad  of  1664  {cp.  Furness' 
Variorum  ed.,  p.  461),  in  which  the  author  took  strange  liberties 
with  Shakespeare's  story. 


Preface 


THE  MERCHANT 


Shakspere's  Library,  Part  I.  Vol.  i.)     There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Shakespeare  was  indebted  to  this  novel. 

"  The  Gesta  Romanorum" — Richard  Robinson's  Eng- 
lish version  entitled  'Records  of  Ancyent  Historyes' 
(x577) — contains  the  nearest  approximation  to  the  story 
of  '  The  Three  Caskets  '  as  treated  in  this  play.* 


A,  The  Great  Channel!. 

B,  Market  Place  of  St.  Mark. 

K.  II  Liuo. 


Venice  in  1617. 
From  Fynes  Moryson's  Itinerary, 
C,  Church  of  St.  Peter. 


E  Church  of  St.  James  neere  the  bridge  Rialto. 
M,  The  New  Lazaretto. 


Shylock's  argument  in  the  trial  scene  (Act  IV.  i.  89- 
102)  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  '  Declamation  95  '  in 
Silvayn's  Orator  (referred  to  above),  " of  a  Jew,  who 
would  for  his  debt  have  a  pound  of  the  flesh  of  a  Chris- 
tian/' 

*  The  various  analogues  of  both  stories  are  given  in  Furness' 
edition,  pp.  287-331. 

6 


OF  VENICE  Preface 

The  elopement  of  Jessica  has  been  traced  by  Dunlop  to 
the  Fourteenth  Tale  of  Massucio  di  Salerno,  who,  enam- 
oured of  the  daughter  of  a  rich  Neapolitan  miser,  carries 
her  off  much  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  play.  It  is  not  im- 
probable that  the  avaricious  father  in  this  tale,  the  daugh- 
ter so  carefully  shut  up,  the  elopement  of  the  lovers  man- 
aged by  the  intervention  of  a  servant,  the  robbery  of  the 
father,  and  his  grief  at  the  discovery,  which  is  represented 
as  divided  between  the  loss  of  his  daughter  and  his  ducats, 
may  have  suggested  the  third  plot  in  Shakespeare's 
drama. 

Finally,  account  must  be  taken  of  the  influence  exercised 
on  Shakespeare  by  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta ;  the  number 
of  parallel  passages  in  the  two  plays  evidences  this  suf- 
ficiently ;  there  is  also  similarity  in  the  situation  between 
father  and  daughter  ('  Oh,  girl,  oh,  gold,  oh,  beauty,  oh, 
my  bliss  ')  ;  Barabas  and  his  slave  should  be  compared 
with  Shylock  and  Launcelot  Gobbo ;  Marlowe's  '  counter- 
argument ad  Christianos,'  as  Ward  puts  it,  anticipates 
Shakespeare's ;  yet  withal  "  Marlowe's  Jew  does  not  ap- 
proach so  near  to  Shakespeare's  as  his  Edward  the  Second 
does  to  Richard  the  Second.  Shylock,  in  the  midst  of  his 
savage  purpose,  is  a  man.  His  motives,  feelings,  resent- 
ments, have  something  human  in  them.  '  If  you  wrong  us, 
shall  we  not  revenge  ? '  Barabas  is  a  mere  monster, 
brought  in  with  a  large  painted  nose  to  please  the  rabble. 
He  kills  in  sport,  poisons  whole  nunneries,  invents  infernal 
machines.  He  is  just  such  an  exhibition  as,  a  century  or 
two  earlier,  might  have  been  played  before  the  Londoners 
by  the  Royal  Command,  when  a  general  pillage  and  massa- 
cre of  the  Hebrews  had  been  resolved  by  the  Cabinet " 
(Charles  Lamb). 

Duration  of  Action.  Various  attempts  have  been  made 
to  calculate  the  action  of  the  play ;  we  know  the  whole  is 
supposed  to  last  three  months,  but  ten  weeks  have  already 
expired  in  Act  III.  i. ;  three  months  have  passed  between 
Bassanio's  departure  from  Venice  and  his  choice  of  the 

7 


Preface  THE  MERCHANT 

caskets ;  his  stay  at  Belmont  before  the  opening  of  Act 
III.  ii.  cannot  have  been  long;  Portia  bids  him  '  pause  a 
day  or  two.  ...  I  would  detain  you  here  some  month  or 
two.'  So  many  events  have,  however,  happened  during 
the  first  two  Acts  that  one  gets  the  impression  that  many 
weeks  have  passed,  and  the  three  months  are  compressed 
into  seven  or  eight  days.  Daniel  (Time-Analysis  of  the 
Plots  of  Shakespere's  plays)  computes  the  time  thus, 
though  one  cannot  follow  him  in  making  Bassanio's  so- 
journ at  Belmont  last  as  long  as  three  months : — Day  I, 
Act  I. ;  interval — say  a  week.  Day  2,  Act  II.  i.-vii. ;  inter- 
val one  day.  Day  3,  Act  II.  viii.-ix. ;  interval — bringing 
the  time  to  within  a  fortnight  of  the  maturity  of  the  bond. 
Day  4,  Act  III.  i. ;  interval — rather  more  than  a  fortnight. 
Day  5,  Act  III.  ii.-iv.  Day  6,  Act  III.  v. ;  Act  IV.  Days 
7  and  8,  Act  V. 


OF  VENICE 


Critical  Comments. 

i. 

Argument. 

I.  Antonio,  a  merchant  of  Venice,  has  many  dear 
friends  who  are  beholden  to  him  for  his  good  qualities ; 
but  most  of  all  he  loves  Bassanio,  for  whom  he  would 
make  any  sacrifice.  Bassanio  is  in  love  with  Portia,  a 
wise  and  wealthy  lady,  but  since  he  lacks  worldly  means 
wherewith  to  press  his  suit,  he  is  constrained  to  borrow 
of  his  friend  Antonio  three  thousand  ducats  ere  he  can 
visit  her.  Antonio's  wealth  is  entirely  represented,  just 
then,  by  various  ships  at  sea.  However,  he  bethinks 
himself  of  a  Jewish  money-lender  named  Shylock,  who 
lends  him  the  money,  under  agreement  that  Antonio 
shall  forfeit  a  pound  of  his  flesh  in  default  of  payment 
on  the  day  his  bond  falls  due. 

II.  Although  the  Jew  stipulates  this  forfeiture  in 
seeming  jest,  he  is  nevertheless  deeply  in  earnest,  for 
he  has  long  held  a  grudge  against  Antonio ;  and  his 
rancour  is  strengthened  at  this  juncture  by  the  elope- 
ment of  his  only  daughter,  Jessica,  with  Lorenzo,  an- 
other of  Antonio's  friends. 

Before  Portia's  father  died  he  made  a  curious  pro- 
vision in  his  will  concerning  her  marriage,  whereby  her 
hand  was  to  be  given  to  the  suitor  who  should  choose 
that  one  of  three  caskets — respectively  of  gold,  silver, 
and  lead — containing  her  portrait.  The  choice  of  cas- 
kets baffles  more  than  one. 

III.  Bassanio  arrives  at  Portia's  house,  and,  much  to 
her  delight,  rightly  chooses  the  leaden  casket.  They  plight 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

their  troth.  But  Bassanio's  joy  is  overcast  by  the  re- 
ceipt of  a  letter  from  Antonio,  advising  him  of  the  loss 
of  the  merchant's  cargoes  by  shipwreck;  and  that  the 
Jew  is  insistent  upon  the  letter  of  his  bond.  Bassanio 
hastens  back  to  his  friend's  succour.  Portia  privately 
resolves  to  be  at  the  trial  of  Antonio. 

IV.  Portia  obtains  from  a  kinsman  the  costume  of  a 
doctor  of  laws,  investigates  Antonio's  case  thoroughly, 
and  appears  at  the  trial  before  the  Duke  of  Venice.  In 
her  disguise  she  is  not  recognized,  even  by  her  husband. 
She  pleads  the  cause  of  Antonio  with  such  eloquence 
and  logic  that  Shylock  not  only  loses  his  case,  but  also 
has  his  property  confiscated  for  plotting  against  the 
life  of  a  Venetian.  The  sentence  against  him  is  miti- 
gated sufficiently  to  allow  him  to  will  his  property  to 
Jessica.  Bassanio,  overjoyed  at  his  friend's  victory, 
wishes  to  bestow  upon  the  supposed  lawyer  the  original 
sum  of  three  thousand  ducats  as  a  fee.  But  Portia  re- 
fuses it,  and  desires  only  a  ring  from  Bassanio's  finger. 
It  was  the  ring  she  had  given  him  when  they  exchanged 
vows,  and  he  had  sworn  to  keep  it.  He  reluctantly  gives 
it  to  the  fair  advocate. 

V.  Portia's  maid,  Nerissa — newly  wedded  to  Gra- 
tiano,  a  friend  of  Bassanio — had  accompanied  Portia  to 
the  trial  in  the  guise  of  a  clerk.  She  also  had  won  back 
from  her  husband  her  engagement  ring.  When  he  re- 
turns with  Bassanio  to  Portia's  home,  Nerissa  feigns 
a  very  pretty  quarrel  with  him  for  giving  away  the  ring. 
Portia,  overhearing  the  quarrel,  points  out  her  own  hus- 
band as  a  worthier  example  of  faithfulness ;  and  affects 
much  choler  when  his  ring  also  is  not  to  be  found.  A 
general  explanation  untangles  the  amusing  snarl  of 
events,  and  brings  joy  to  every  heart — even  to  that  of 
the  honest  Merchant  of  Venice,  who  hears  of  the  safe 
arrival  of  three  of  his  ships. 

McSpadden:  Shakespearian   Synopses. 


10 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

II. 
Shylock. 

The  central  figure  of  [The  Merchant  of  Venice],  in  the 
eyes  of  modern  readers  and  spectators,  is  of  course  Shy- 
lock,  though  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  appeared 
to  Shakespeare's  contemporaries  a  comic  personage, 
and,  since  he  makes  his  final  exit  before  the  last  act, 
by  no  means  the  protagonist.  In  the  humaner  view  of 
a  later  age,  Shylock  appears  as  a  half-pathetic  creation, 
a  scapegoat,  a  victim;  to  the  Elizabethan  public,  with 
his  rapacity  and  his  miserliness,  his  usury,  and  his  eager- 
ness to  dig  for  another  the  pit  into  which  he  himself 
falls,  he  seemed,  not  terrible,  but  ludicrous.  They  did 
not  even  take  him  seriously  enough  to  feel  any  real  un- 
easiness as  to  Antonio's  fate,  since  they  all  knew  before- 
hand the  issue  of  the  adventure.  They  laughed  when 
he  went  to  Bassanio's  feast  "  in  hate,  to  feed  upon  the 
prodigal  Christian";  they  laughed  when,  in  the  scene 
with  Tubal,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  bandied  about  be- 
tween exultation  over  Antonio's  misfortunes  and  rage 
over  the  prodigality  of  his  runaway  daughter;  and  they 
found  him  odious  when  he  exclaimed,  "  I  would  my 
daughter  were  dead  at  my  foot  and  the  jewels  in  her 
ear!"  He  was,  simply  as  a  Jew,  a  despised  creature; 
he  belonged  to  the  race  which  had  crucified  God  himself; 
and  he  was  doubly  despised  as  an  extortionate  usurer. 
For  the  rest,  the  English  public — like  the  Norwegian 
public  so  lately  as  the  first  half  of  this  century — had  no 
acquaintance  with  Jews  except  in  books  and  on  the 
stage.  From  1290  until  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century  the  Jews  were  entirely  excluded  from  England. 
Every  prejudice  against  them  was  free  to  flourish  un- 
checked. 

Did  Shakespeare  in  a  certain  measure  share  these  re- 
ligious prejudices,  as  he  seems  to  have  shared  the  pa- 
triotic prejudices  against  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  if,  indeed, 

11 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

he  is  responsible  for  the  part  she  plays  in  Henry  VI.? 
We  may  be  sure  that  he  was  very  slightly  affected  by 
them,  if  at  all.  Had  he  made  a  more  undisguised  effort 
to  place  himself  at  Shyloek's  standpoint,  the  censor- 
ship, on  the  one  hand,  would  have  intervened,  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  public  would  have  been  bewildered 
and  alienated.  It  is  quite  in  the  spirit  of  the  age  that 
Shylock  should  suffer  the  punishment  which  befalls  him. 
To  pay  him  out  for  his  stiff-necked  vengefulriess,  he  is 
mulcted  not  only  of  the  sum  he  lent  Antonio,  but  of  half 
his  fortune,  and  is  finally,  like  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta, 
compelled  to  change  his  religion.  The  latter  detail  gives 
something  of  a  shock  to  the  modern  reader.  But  the 
respect  for  personal  conviction,  when  it  conflicted  with 
orthodoxy,  did  not  exist  in  Shakespeare's  time.  It  was 
not  very  long  since  Jews  had  been  forced  to  choose 
between  kissing  the  crucifix  and  mounting  the  faggots; 
and  in  Strasburg,  in  1349,  nine  hundred  of  them  had  in 
one  day  chosen  the  latter  alternative.  It  is  strange  to 
reflect,  too,  that  just  at  the  time  when,  on  the  English 
stage,  one  Mediterranean  Jew  was  poisoning  his  daugh- 
ter, and  another  whetting  his  knife  to  cut  his  debtor's 
flesh,  thousands  of  heroic  and  enthusiastic  Hebrews  in 
Spain  and  Portugal,  who,  after  the  expulsion  of  the 
300,000  at  the  beginning  of  the  century,  had  secretly 
remained  faithful  to  Judaism,  were  suffering  themselves 
to  be  tortured,  flayed,  and  burnt  alive  by  the  Inquisition, 
rather  than  forswear  the  religion  of  their  race.  .  .  . 
But  what  is  most  surprising,  doubtless,  is  the  instinct 
of  genius  with  which  Shakespeare  has  seized  upon  and 
reproduced  racial  characteristics,  and  emphasized  what 
is  peculiarly  Jewish  in  Shylock's  culture.  While  Mar- 
lowe, according  to  his  custom,  made  his  Barabas  revel 
in  mythological  similes,  Shakespeare  indicates  that  Shy- 
lock's  culture  is  founded  entirely  upon  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, and  makes  commerce  his  only  point  of  contact 
with  the  civilisation  of  later  times.  All  his  parallels  are 
drawn  from  the  Patriarchs  and  the  Prophets.  With  what 

12 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

unction  he  speaks  when  he  justifies  himself  by  the  ex- 
ample of  Jacob!  His  own  race  is  always  "  our  sacred 
nation,"  and  he  feels  that  "  the  curse  has  never  fallen 
upon  it "  until  his  daughter  fled  with  his  treasures.  Jew- 
ish, too,  is  Shylock's  respect  for,  and  obstinate  insistence 
on,  the  letter  of  the  law,  his  reliance  upon  statutory 
rights,  which  are,  indeed,  the  only  rights  society  allows 
him,  and  the  partly  instinctive,  partly  defiant  restriction 
of  his  moral  ideas  to  the  principle  of  retribution.  He 
is  no  wild  animal;  he  is  no  heathen  who  simply  gives 
the  rein  to  his  natural  instincts;  his  hatred  is  not  un- 
governed;  he  restrains  it  within  its  legal  rights,  like  a 
tiger  in  its  cage.  He  is  entirely  lacking,  indeed,  in  the 
freedom  and  serenity,  the  easy-going,  light-hearted  care- 
lessness which  characterises  a  ruling  caste  in  its  virtues 
and  its  vices,  in  its  charities  as  in  its  prodigalities;  but  he 
has  not  a  single  twinge  of  conscience  about  anything 
that  he  does;  his  actions  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  his 
ideals. 

Sundered  from  the  regions,  the  social  forms,  the  lan- 
guage, in  which  his  spirit  is  at  home,  he  has  yet  retained 
his  Oriental  character.  Passion  is  the  kernel  of  his 
nature.  It  is  his  passion  that  has  enriched  him;  he  is 
passionate  in  action,  in  calculation,  in  sensation,  in 
hatred,  in  revenge,  in  everything.  His  vengefulness  is 
many  times  greater  than  his  rapacity.  Avaricious 
though  he  be,  money  is  nothing  to  him  in  comparison 
with  revenge.  It  is  not  until  he  is  exasperated  by  his 
daughter's  robbery  and  flight  that  he  takes  such  hard 
measures  against  Antonio,  and  refuses  to  accept  three 
times  the  amount  of  the  loan.  His  conception  of  honour 
may  be  unchivalrous  enough,  but,  such  as  it  is,  his 
honour  is  not  to  be  bought  for  money.  His  hatred  of 
Antonio  is  far  more  intense  than  his  love  for  his  jewels; 
and  it  is  this  passionate  hatred,  not  avarice,  that  makes 
him  the  monster  he  becomes. 

From  this  Hebrew  passionateness,  which  can  be  traced 

even  in  details  of  diction,  arises,  among  other  things, 

•  «• . 
13 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

his  loathing  of  sloth  and  idleness.  To  realise  how  es- 
sentially Jewish  is  this  trait,  we  need  only  refer  to  the 
so-called  Proverbs  of  Solomon.  Shylock  dismisses 
Launcelot  with  the  words,  "  Drones  hive  not  with  me." 
Oriental,  rather  than  specially  Jewish,  are  the  images  in 
which  he  gives  his  passion  utterance,  approaching,  as 
they  so  often  do,  to  the  parable  form.  (See,  for  example, 
his  appeal  to  Jacob's  cunning,  or  the  speech  in  vindica- 
tion of  his  claim,  which  begins,  •"  You  have  among  you 
many  a  purchased  slave.")  Specially  Jewish,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  the  way  in  which  this  ardent  passion 
throughout  employs  its  images  and  parables  in  the 
service  of  a  curiously  sober  rationalism,  so  that  a  sharp 
and  biting  logic,  which  retorts  every  accusation  with 
interest,  is  always  the  controlling  force.  This  sober 
logic,  moreover,  never  lacks  dramatic  impetus.  Shy- 
lock's  course  of  thought  perpetually  takes  the  form  of 
question  and  answer,  a  subordinate  but  characteristic 
trait  which  appears  in  the  style  of  the  Old  Testament, 
and  reappears  to  this  day  in  representations  of  primitive 
Jews.  One  can  feel  through  his  words  that  there  is  a 
chanting  quality  in  his  voice;  his  movements  are  rapid, 
his  gestures  large.  Externally  and  internally,  to  the 
inmost  fibre  of  his  being,  he  is  a  type  of  his  race  in  its 
degradation. 

Shylock  disappears  with  the  end  of  the  fourth  act  in 
order  that  no  discord  may  mar  the  harmony  of  the  con- 
cluding scenes.  By  means  of  his  fifth  act,  Shakespeare 
dissipates  any  preponderance  of  pain  and  gloom  in  the 
general  impression  of  the  play. 

Brandes:  William  Shakespeare. 

III. 

Portia. 

In  the  elements  which  compose  the  character  of  Por- 
tia, Shakspeare  anticipated,  but  without  intention,  the 

14 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

intellect  of  those  modern  women  who  can  wield  so 
gracefully  many  of  the  tools  which  have  been  hitherto 
monopolized  by  men.  But  the  same  genius  which  en- 
dowed her  with  a  large  and  keen  intelligence  derived  it 
from  her  sex,  and,  for  the  sake  of  it,  he  did  not  sacrifice 
one  trait  of  her  essential  womanliness.  This  commands 
our  attention  very  strongly;  for  it  is  the  clew  which 
we  must  start  with. 

She  is  still  a  woman  to  the  core  of  her  beauty-loving 
heart.  Coming  home  from  the  great  scene  in  Venice, 
where  she  baffles  Shylock,  and  swamps  with  sudden 
justice  the  scales  that  were  so  eager  for  the  bonded  flesh, 
she  loiters  in  the  moonlight,  marks  the  music  which  is 
floating  from  her  palace  to  be  caressed  by  the  night  and 
made  sweeter  than  by  day.  Her  listening  ear  is  modu- 
lated by  all  the  tenderness  she  feels  and  the  love  she 
expects;  so  she  gives  the  music  the  color  of  a  soul  that 
has  come  home  to  wife  and  motherhood,  till  her  thoughts 
put  such  a  strain  upon  the  vibrating  strings  that  they 
grow  too  tense,  and  threaten  to  divulge  her  delicate 
secret.     .     .     . 

Portia  has  the  strong  sense  to  expect  that  the  majority 
of  her  noble  admirers  will  be  taken  by  appearance.  She 
is  not  quite  sure,  but  has  an  instinct,  that  these  gentle- 
men who  are  after  her  are  also  after  her  pretty  property 
of  Belmont,  and  will  be  likely  to  choose  the  metals  re- 
sponsive to  this  temper.  Bassanio  frankly  acknowledges 
to  a  friend  that  he  would  like  to  repair  his  broken  for- 
tunes ;  but  Shakspeare  shows  him  to  be  a  lover  before 
he  gives  this  mercenary  hint;  and  he  has  reason  to 
surmise  that  Portia  loves  him.  This  unspoken  mutuality 
dignifies  his  quest;  as  if  Shakspeare  himself  would  not 
admit  the  charge  that  he  is  a  fortune-hunter.  And  it-  is 
noticeable  how  little  consequence  we  attach  to  Bas- 
sanio's  character.  We  do  not  care  to  see  him  in  any 
action,  or  to  have  him  show  a  worthiness  to  be  Portia's 
lover.  He  is  but  the  lay-figure  of  her  love:  there  is  so 
much  of  her  that  there  must  be  a  great  deal  of  him,  and 

15 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

he  may  be  spared  the  trouble  of  appearing  at  full  length. 
And  we  never  suspect  her  of  belonging  to  that  tribe  of 
bright  women  who,  either  from  instinct  or  calculation, 
marry  good-natured,  well-mannered  numskulls,  and 
never  have  reason  to  sue  for  a  divorce.  Shakspeare 
ennobles  Bassanio  when  the  divining  soul  sees  through 
the  leaden  lid. 

But  what  if  one  of  the  other  suitors  should  also  have 
a  noble  heart  whose  pulses  feed  discernment,  one  as  fine 
and  unconventional  as  herself!  There  is  just  hazard 
enough  to  affront  her  cherishing  of  the  absent  Bassanio. 
She  does  not  relish  the  moment  when  her  heart,  richer 
than  the  princes  know  of,  goes  into  the  lottery.  How- 
ever, when  her  father  made  his  will,  it  doubtless  occurred 
to  her  that  his  choice  of  metals  came  from  a  life's 
experience  of  the  calibre  of  the  average  man,  and  was 
meant  affectionately  to  protect  her  till  the  true  gentle- 
man should  come.  As  Nerissa  says,  "  Your  father  was 
ever  virtuous;  and  holy  men,  at  their  death,  have  good 
inspirations;  therefore,  the  lottery  that  he  hath  devised 
in  these  three  chests,  of  gold,  silver,  and  lead  (whereof 
who  chooses  his  meaning  chooses  you)  will,  no  doubt, 
never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly  but  one  whom  you  shall 
rightly  love."  Fortunate  is  the  man  who  wins  a  wife 
because  he  chooses  Heaven's  meaning  in  a  woman! 
Luckless  the  wife  who  is  not  chosen  by  some  implied 
Heaven  in  a  man!     .     .     . 

An  ordinary  woman  might  have  enmeshed  him  in  a 
cocoon  of  delicate  coquetries:  any  woman  dead  in  love, 
and  a  little  less  than  strict  to  an  oath,  would  have  man- 
aged in  some  way  to  provoke  that  lead  casket  into 
twinkling  a  hint  to  him.  But  she  is  too  honest  for  either. 
A  woman  with  a  soul  as  tender  as  it  is  firm,  here  she 
stands  dismayed  as  Destiny  is  about  to  rattle  its  dice 
upon  her  heart:  happiness,  and  a  future  worthy  of  her, 
all  at  stake.  For  though  her  mental  resources  might 
compete  with  any  fate,  she  is  all  woman,  made  to  be  a 
wife,  and  without  wifehood  to  feel  herself  at  one  essen- 

16 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

tial  point  impaired, — all  the  more  defrauded  because  so 
well  endowed.  How  she  clings  for  support  to  the  few 
moments  that  yet  stand  before  his  choice!  She  wishes 
there  were  more  of  them  to  stay  her.     .     .     . 

Now  Bassanio,  who  lives  upon  the  rack,  denies  her 
plea  for  delay:  "Let  me  to  my  fortune  and  the  cas- 
kets." How  profoundly  she  surmises  that  music  might 
lull  the  watching  Fate,  so  that  he  could  pass  to  his 
Eurydice!     She  bids  the  music  play: — 

"  As  are  those  dulcet  sounds  in  break  of  day, 
That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear, 
And  summon  him  to  marriage." 

Bassanio  must  be  attempered  to  his  choice;  the  song's 
key  must  have  an  instinct  for  the  proper  casket's  key. 
Unconsciously  she  breaks  her  oath;  for  what  benign 
influence  selected  the  song  that  is  now  sung?  Some 
star,  whose  tenant  was  her  father?  Or  was  it  Nerissa's 
doing,  who  determined  to  convey  a  hint  to  the  lover? 
Or  did  Gratiano  hit  upon  it,  who  had  got  from  Nerissa 
a  promise  of  her  love  if  the  choice  went  to  suit  her?  A 
hint,  indeed!  It  is  the  very  breadth  of  broadness,  and 
a  lover  is  not  dull.     .     .     . 

When  Portia's  heart  unties  the  spasm  of  joy  that 
tightened  round  it  at  Bassanio's  choice,  it  beats  again 
with  the  grave  and  sweet  dignity  that  is  as  native  to  her 
as  her  playful  wit.  Her  mind  recognizes  the  serious 
change  that  must  befall  her  fortune:  in  the  first  moment 
of  it  there  comes  a  dee'p  humility  that  makes  her  speech 
kneel  at  the  feet  of  the  man  whom  she  will  marry. 
For  her  great  superiority  is  free  from  the  taint  of  con- 
ceit, save  "  a  noble  and  a  true  conceit  of  godlike 
amity."     .     .     . 

So  Portia,  who  could,  when  it  was  needed,  "  turn  two 
mincing  steps  into  a  manly  stride,"  doffs  the  lawyer's 
robe,  and,  returning,  is  met  by  music  and  conducted  to 
a  palace  that  was  not  till  then  a  home. 

Weiss:  Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspcare. 

*7 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

IV. 
Antonio. 

Viewing  the  persons  severally,  it  seems  that  the  piece 
ought  by  all  means  to  be  called  The  Jew  of  Venice.  But 
upon  looking  further  into  the  principles  of  dramatic 
combination,  we  may  easily  discover  cause  why  it  should 
rather  be  named  as  it  is.  For  if  the  Jew  be  the  most 
important  person  individually,  the  Merchant  is  so  dra- 
matically. Thus  it  is  the  laws  of  art,  not  of  individual 
delineation,  that  entitle  Antonio  to  the  pre-eminence,  be- 
cause, however  inferior  in  himself,  he  is  the  centre  and 
mainspring  of  the  entire  action:  without  him  the  Jew, 
great  as  he  is  in  himself,  had  no  business  there;  whereas 
the  converse,  if  true  at  all,  is  by  no  means  true  in  so 
great  a  degree. 

Not  indeed  that  the  Merchant  is  a  small  matter  in  him- 
self; far  from  it:  he  is  every  way  a  most  interesting 
and  attractive  personage;  insomuch  that  even  Shylock 
away,  still  there  were  timber  enough  in  him  for  a  good 
dramatic  hero.  A  peculiar  interest  attaches  to  him  from 
the  state  of  mind  in  which  we  first  see  him.  He  is  deeply 
sad,  not  knowing  wherefore:  a  dim,  mysterious  presage 
of  evil  weighs  down  his  spirits,  as  though  he  felt  afar 
off  the  coming  on  of  some  great  calamity;  yet  this 
strange  unwonted  gloom,  sweetened  with  his  habitual 
gentleness  and  good-nature,  has^  the  effect  of  showing 
•  how  dearly  he  is  held  by  such  whose  friendship  is  the 
fairest  earthly  purchase  of  virtue.  This  boding,  presenti- 
mental  state  of  mind  lends  a  certain  charm  to  his  char- 
acter, affecting  us  something  as  an  instance  of  second- 
sight,  and  coalescing  with  the  mind's  innate  aptitude  to 
the  faith  that 

"powers  there  are 
That  touch  each  other  to  the  quick — in  modes 
Which  the  gross  world  no  sense  hath  to  perceive, 
No  soul  to  dream  of." 

18 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

And  it  is  very  considerable  that  upon  spirits  such  as  he 
even  the  smiles  of  fortune  often  have  a  strangely  sad- 
dening effect ;  for  in  proportion  as  they  are  worthy  of 
them  they  naturally  feel  that  they  are  far  otherwise,  and 
the  sense  of  so  vast  a  discrepancy  between  their  havings 
and  deservings  is  apt  to  fill  them  with  an  indefinable 
oppressive  dread  of  some  reverse  wherein  present  dis- 
crepancies shall  be  fully  made  up.  So  that  wealth  seldom 
dispenses  such  warnings  save  to  its  most  virtuous  pos- 
sessors. And  such  is  Antonio:  a  kind-hearted,  sweet- 
mannered  man;  of  a  large  and  liberal  spirit;  affable,  gen- 
erous, and  magnificent  in  his  dispositions;  patient  of 
trial,  indulgent  to  folly,  free  where  he  loves,  and  frank 
where  he  hates;  in  prosperity  modest,  in  adversity  cheer- 
ful; craving  wealth  for  the  uses  of  virtue,  and  as  the 
organs  and  sinews  of  friendship,  so  that  the  more  he  is 
worth,  the  more  he  seems  worthy — his  character  is  one 
which  we  never  weary  of  contemplating.  The  only 
blemish  we  perceive  in  him  is  his  treatment  of  Shylock: 
in  this,  though  we  cannot  but  see  that  it  is  much  more 
the  fault  of  the  times  than  of  the  man,  we  are  forced  to 
side  against  him;  than  which  it  were  not  easy  to  allege 
a  stronger  case  of  poetical  justice.  Yet  even  this  we 
blame  rather  as  an  abuse  of  himself  than  of  Shylock, 
and  think  the  less  of  it  as  wronging  the  latter,  be- 
cause, notwithstanding  he  has  such  provocations,  he 
avowedly  grounds  his  hate  mainly  on  those  very  things 
which  make  the  strongest  title  to  a  good  man's  love. 
Hudson:  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 

V. 

Antonio's  Friends. 

The  friendship  between  Antonio  and  his  companions 
is  such  a  picture  as  Shakespeare  evidently  delighted  to 
draw.     And  so  noble  a  sentiment  is  not  apt  to  inhabit 

19 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

ignoble  breasts.  Bassanio,  Gratiano,  and  Salarino  are 
each  admirable  in  their  way,  and  give  a  charming  variety 
to  the  scenes  where  they  move.  Bassanio,  though  some- 
thing too  lavish  of  purse,  is  a  model  of  a  gentleman; 
in  whose  character  and  behaviour  all  is  order  and  pro- 
priety; with  whom  good  manners  are  the  proper  out- 
side and  visibility  of  a  fair  mind,  the  natural  foliage 
and  drapery  of  inward  refinement,  and  delicacy,  and 
rectitude.  Well-bred,  he  has  that  in  him  which,  even 
had  his  breeding  been  ill,  would  have  raised  him  above 
it,  and  made  him  a  gentleman.  Gratiano  and  Salarino 
are  two  as  clever,  sprightly,  and  voluble  persons  as  any 
one  need  desire  to  be  with,  the  chief  difference  between 
them  being,  that  the  former  lets  his  tongue  run  on  from 
good  impulses,  the  other  makes  it  do  so  for  good  ends. 
If  not  so  wise  as  Bassanio,  they  are  more  witty,  and 
as  much  surpass  him  in  strength,  as  they  fall  short  in 
beauty,  of  character.  It  is  observable  that  of  the  two 
Gratiano  is  the  more  heedless  and  headstrong  in  thought 
and  speech,  with  less  subjection  of  the  individual  to 
the  well-ordered  forms  of  social  decorum;  so  that,  if 
he  behave  not  quite  so  well  as  the  others,  he  gives  livelier 
proof  that  what  good  behaviour  he  has  is  his  own;  a 
growth  from  within,  not  an  impression  from  without. 
It  is  rather  remarkable  that  one  so  talkative  and  rattle- 
tongued  should  therewithal  carry  so  much  weight  of 
meaning;  and  he  often  seems  less  sensible  than  he  is, 
because  of  his  trotting  volubility.  But  he  has  no  wish 
to  be  "  reputed  wise  for  saying  nothing";  and  he  often 
makes  a  merit  of  talking  nonsense  when,  as  is  often  the 
case,  nonsense  is  the  best  sort  of  sense;  being  willing  to 
incur  the  charge  of  folly,  provided  he  can  thereby  add 
to  the  health  and  entertainment  of  his  friends. 

Hudson  :    The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 


20 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

VI. 
Jessica  and  Nerissa. 

It  is  observable  that  something  of  the  intellectual  bril- 
liance of  Portia  is  reflected  on  the  other  female  char- 
acters of  The  Merchant  of  Venice  so  as  to  preserve  in 
the  midst  of  contrast  a  certain  harmony  and  keeping. 
Thus  Jessica,  though  properly  kept  subordinate,  is  cer- 
tainly 

A  most  beautiful  pagan — a  most  sweet  Jew. 

She  cannot  be  called  a  sketch — or  if  a  sketch,  she  is  like 
one  of  those  dashed  off  in  glowing  colours  from  the 
rainbow  palette  of  a  Rubens;  she  has  a  rich  tinge  of 
Orientalism  shed  over  her,  worthy  of  her  Eastern  origin. 
In  another  play,  and  in  any  other  companionship  than 
that  of  the  matchless  Portia,  Jessica  would  make  a  very 
beautiful  heroine  of  herself.  Nothing  can  be  more 
poetically,  more  classically  fanciful  and  elegant  than 
the  scenes  between  her  and  Lorenzo — the  celebrated 
moonlight  dialogue,  for  instance,  which  we  all  have  by 
heart.  Every  sentiment  she  utters  interests  us  for  her 
—more  particularly  her  bashful  self-reproach,  when  fly- 
ing in  the  disguise  of  a  page : — 

I  am  glad  'tis  night,  you  do  not  look  upon  me, 
For  I  am  much  asham'd  of  my  exchange; 
But  love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 
The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit; 
For  if  they  could,  Cupid  himself  would  blush 
To  see  me  thus  transformed  to  a  boy. 

And  the  enthusiastic  and  generous  testimony  to  the 
superior  graces  and  accomplishments  of  Portia  comes 
with  a  peculiar  grace  from  her  lips : — 

Why,  if  two  gods  should  play  some  heavenly  match, 
And  on  the  wager  lay  two  earthly  women, 
And  Portia  one,  there  must  be  something  else 
Pawned  with  the  other ;  for  the  poor  rude  world 
Hath  not  her  fellow. 


Comments  THE  MERCHANT 

We  should  not,  however,  easily  pardon  her  for  cheating 
her  father  with  so  much  indifference  but  for  the  per- 
ception that  Shylock  values  his  daughter  far  beneath 
his  wealth : — 

I  would  my  daughter  were  dead  at  my  foot,  and  the  jewels  in 
her  ear ! — would  she  were  hearsed  at  my  foot,  and  the  ducats  in 
her  coffin  i 

Nerissa  is  a  good  specimen  of  a  common  genus  of 
characters;  she  is  a  clever  confidential  waiting-woman, 
who  has  caught  a  little  of  her  lady's  elegance  and 
romance;  she  affects  to  be  lively  and  sententious,  falls 
in  love,  and  makes  her  favour  conditional  on  the  fortune 
of  the  caskets,  and,  in  short,  mimics  her  mistress  with 
good  emphasis  and  discretion.  Nerissa  and  the  gay, 
talkative  Gratiano  are  as  well  matched  as  the  incom- 
parable Portia  and  her  magnificent  and  captivating 
lover. 

Mrs.  Jameson  :  Characteristics  of  Women. 

VII. 

Dramatic  Workmanship  of  the  Play. 

In  the  exhibition  of  Shakespeare  as  an  Artist,  it  is 
natural  to  begin  with  the  raw  material  which  he  worked 
up  into  finished  masterpieces.  For  illustration  of  this 
no  play  could  be  more  suitable  than  The  Merchant  of 
Venice,  in  which  two  tales,  already  familiar  in  the  story 
form,  have  been  woven  together  into  a  single  plot:  the 
Story  of  the  Cruel  Jew,  who  entered  into  a  bond  with 
his  enemy  of  which  the  forfeit  was  to  be  a  pound  of 
this  enemy's  own  flesh,  and  the  Story  of  the  Heiress  and 
the  Caskets.     .     .     . 

The  avoidance  or  reduction  of  difficulties  in  a  story 
is  an  obvious  element  in  any  kind  of  artistic  handling; 
it  is  of  special  importance  in  Drama  in  proportion  as 
we  are  more  sensitive  to  improbabilities  in  what  is  sup- 
posed to  take  place  before  our  eyes  than  in  what  we 

22 


OF  VENICE  Comments 

merely  hear  of  by  narrative.  This  branch  of  art  could  not 
be  better  illustrated  than  in  the  Story  of  the  Jew:  never 
perhaps  has  an  artist  had  to  deal  with  materials  so 
bristling  with  difficulties  of  the  greatest  magnitude,  and 
never,  it  may  be  added,  have  they  been  met  with  greater 
ingenuity.  The  host  of  improbabilities  gathering  about 
such  a  detail  as  the  pound  of  flesh  must  strike  every 
mind.  There  is,  however,  preliminary  to  these,  another 
difficulty  of  more  general  application:  the  difficulty  of 
painting  a  character  bad  enough  to  be  the  hero  of  the 
story.  It  might  be  thought  that  to  paint  excess  of  bad- 
ness is  comparatively  easy,  as  needing  but  a  coarse 
brush.  On  the  contrary,  there  are  fewer  severer  tests 
of  creative  power  than  the  treatment  of  monstrosity. 
To  be  told  that  there  is  villainy  in  the  wTorld  and  tacitly 
to  accept  the  statement  may  be  easy;  it  is  another  thing 
to  be  brought  into  close  contact  with  the  villains,  to 
hear  them  converse,  to  watch  their  actions,  and  occasion- 
ally to  be  taken  into  their  confidence.  We  realise  in 
Drama  through  our  sympathy  and  our  experience:  in 
real  life  we  have  not  been  accustomed  to  come  across 
monsters  and  are  unfamiliar  with  their  behaviour;  in 
proportion  then  as  the  badness  of  a  character  is  ex- 
aggerated it  is  carried  outside  the  sphere  of  our  ex- 
perience, the  naturalness  of  the  scene  is  interrupted  and 
its  human  interest  tends  to  decline.  So,  in  the  case  of 
the  story  under  consideration,  the  dramatist  is  con- 
fronted with  this  dilemma:  he  must  make  the  character 
of  Shylock  absolutely  bad,  or  the  incident  of  the  bond 
will  appear  unreal;  he  must  not  make  the  character  ex- 
traordinarily bad,  or  there  is  danger  of  the  whole  scene 
appearing  unreal.     .     .     . 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  the  whole  movement  of  the  play 
rises  naturally  out  of  the  union  of  the  two  stories.  One 
of  the  main  distinctions  between  the  progress  of  events 
in  real  life  or  history  and  in  Drama  is  that  the  move- 
ment of  a  drama  falls  into  the  form  technically  known 
as  Complication  and  Resolution.     A  dramatist  fastens 

23 


Comments 

our  attention  upon  some  train  of  events:  then  he  sets 
himself  to  divert  this  train  of  events  from  its  natural 
course  by  some  interruption;  this  interruption  is  either 
removed,  and  the  train  of  events  returns  to  its  natural 
course,  or  the  interruption  is  carried  on  to  some  tragic 
culmination.  In  The  Merchant  of  Venice  our  interest  is 
at  the  beginning  fixed  on  Antonio  as  rich,  high-placed, 
the  protector  and  benefactor  of  his  friends.  By  the 
events  following  upon  the  incident  of  the  bond  we  see 
what  would  seem  the  natural  life  of  Antonio  diverted 
into  a  totally  different  channel;  in  the  end  the  whole 
course  is  restored,  and  Antonio  becomes  prosperous 
as  before.  Such  interruption  of  a  train  of  incidents  is 
its  Complication,  and  the  term  Complication  suggests 
a  happy  Resolution  to  follow.  Complication  and  Reso- 
lution are  essential  to  dramatic  movement,  as  discords 
and  their  "  resolution "  into  concords  constitute  the 
essence  of  music.  The  Complication  and  Resolution  in 
the  story  of  the  Jew  serve  for  the  Complication  and 
Resolution  of  the  drama  as  a  whole;  and  my  immediate 
point  is  that  these  elements  of  movement  in  the  one 
story  spring  directly  out  of  its  connection  with  the  other. 
But  for  Bassanio's  need  of  money  and  his  blunder  in 
applying  to  Shylock  the  bond  would  never  have  been 
entered  into,  and  the  change  in  Antonio's  fortunes  would 
never  have  come  about:  thus  the  cause  for  all  the  Com- 
plication of  the  play  (technically,  the  Complicating 
Force)  is  the  happy  lover  of  the  Caskets  Story.  Simi- 
larly Portia  is  the  means  by  which  Antonio's  fortunes 
are  restored  to  their  natural  flow:  in  other  words,  the 
source  of  the  Resolution  (or  Resolving  Force)  is  the 
maiden  of  the  Caskets  Story.  ,  The  two  leading  per- 
sonages of  the  one  tale  are  the  sources  respectively  of 
the  Complication  and  Resolution  in  the  other  tale,  which 
carry  the  Complication  and  Resolution  of  the  drama 
as  a  whole.  Thus  simply  does  the  movement  of  the 
whole  play  flow  from  the  union  of  the  two  stories. 

Moulton  :  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist. 

24 


The  earliest  authentic  representation  of  Venice  known  to  exist. 
From  the  Romance  of  Alexander  in  the  Bodleian  Library  (XlVth  Cent.). 


25 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 


} 


The  Duke  of  Venice. 

The  Prince  of  Morocco, 

t       t>  A  (-  suitors  to  Portia. 

The  Prince  of  Arragon, 

Antonio,  a  merchant  of  Venice. 

Bassanio,  his  friend,  suitor  likewise  to  Portia. 

Salanio, 

_  '    Y  friends  to  Antonio  and  Bassanio. 

Gratiano, 

Salerio, 

Lorenzo,  in  love  with  Jessica. 

Shylock,  a  rich  Jew. 

Tubal,  a  Jew,  his  friend. 

Launcelot  Gobbo,  the  clown,  servant  to  Shy  lock. 

Old  Gobbo,  father  to  Launcelot. 

Leonardo,  servant  to  Bassanio. 

Balthasar,  ) 

~  y  servants  to  Portia. 

Stephano,     j 


Portia,  a  rich  heiress. 
Nerissa,  her  waiting-maid. 
Jessica,  daughter  to  Shylock. 


Magnificoes  of  Venice,  Officers  of  the  Court  of  Justice,  Gaoler, 
Servants  to  Portia,  and  other  Attendants. 

Scene:    Partly  at  Venice,  and  partly  at  Belmont,  the  seat 
of  Portia,  on  the  Continent. 


26 


The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

ACT   FIRST 
Scene  I. 

Venice.    A  street. 
Enter  Antonio,  Salarino,  and  Salanio. 

Ant.  In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad: 
It  wearies  me ;  you  say  it  wearies  you ; 
But  how  I  caught  it,  found  it,  or  came  by  it, 
What  stuff  'tis  made  of,  whereof  it  is  born, 
I  am  to  learn ; 

And  such  a  want-wit  sadness  makes  of  me, 
That  I  have  much  ado  to  know  myself. 

Solar.  Your  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean ; 

There,  where  your  argosies  with  portly  sail, 

Like  signiors  and  rich  burghers  on  the  flood,  10 

Or,  as  it  were,  the  pageants  of  the  sea, 

Do  overpeer  the  petty  traffickers, 

That  curt'sy  to  them,  do  them  reverence, 

As  they  fly  by  them  with  their  woven  wings. 

Salan.  Believe  me,  sir,  had  I  such  venture  forth, 
The  better  part  of  my  affections  would 
Be  with  my  hopes  abroad.    I  should  be  still 
Plucking  the  grass,  to  know  where  sits  the  wind ; 
Peering  in  maps  for  ports,  and  piers,  and  roads ; 
And  every  object,  that  might  make  me  fear  20 

Misfortune  to  my  ventures,  out  of  doubt 
Would  make  me  sad. 

27 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Salar.  My  wind,  cooling  my  broth, 

Would  blow  me  to  an  ague,  when  I  thought 
What  harm  a  wind  too  great  at  sea  might  do. 
I  should  not  see  the  sandy  hour-glass  run, 
But  I  should  think  of  shallows  and  of  flat!, 
And  see  my  wealthy  Andrew  dock'd  in  sand 
Vailing  her  high  top  lower  than  her  ribs 
To  kiss  her  burial.     Should  I  go  to  church 
And  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone,  30 

And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks, 
Which  touching  but  my  gentle  vessel's  side 
Would  scatter  all  her  spices  on  the  stream, 
Enrobe  the  roaring  waters  with  my  silks ; 
And,  in  a  word,  but  even  now  worth  this, 
And  now  worth  nothing  ?    Shall  I  have  the  thought 
To  think  on  this  ;   and  shall  I  lack  the  thought, 
That  such  a  thing  bechanced  would  make  me  sad  ? 
But  tell  not  me ;   I  know,  Antonio 
Is  sad  to  think  upon  his  merchandise.  40 

Ant.  Believe  me,  no :  I  thank  my  fortune  for  it, 
My  ventures  are  not  in  one  bottom  trusted, 
Nor  to  one  place ;   nor  is  my  whole  estate 
Upon  the  fortune  of  this  present  year : 
Therefore  my  merchandise  makes  me  not  sad. 

Salar.  Why,  then  you  are  in  love. 

Ant.  Fj,e,  fie! 

Salar.  Not  in  love  neither?     Then  let  us  say  you  are 
sad, 
Because  you  are  not  merry  :  and  'twere  as  easy 
For  you  to  laugh,  and  leap,  and  say  you  are  merry, 
Because  you  are  not    sad.     Now,    by    two-headed 
Janus,  50 

Nature  hath  framed  strange  fellows  in  her  time : 

28 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Some  that  will  evermore  peep  through  their  eyes, 

And  laugh  like  parrots  at  a  bag-piper  ; 

And  other  of  such  vinegar  aspect, 

That  they  '11  not  show  their  teeth  in  way  of  smile, 

Though  Nestor  swear  the  jest  be  laughable. 

Enter  Bassanio,  Lorenzo,  and  Gratiano. 

Salem.  Here  comes  Bassanio,  your  most  noble  kinsman, 
Gratiano,  and  Lorenzo.     Fare  ye  well : 
We  leave  you  now  with  better  company. 

Salar.  I  would  have  stay'd  till  I  had  made  you  merry,  60 
If  worthier  friends  had  not  prevented  me. 

Ant.  Your  worth  is  very  dear  in  my  regard. 
I  take  it,  your  own  business  calls  on  you, 
And  you  embrace  the  occasion  to  depart. 

Salar.  Good  morrow,  my  good  lords. 

Bass.  Good  signiors  both,  when  shall  we  laugh  ?  say, 
when  ? 
You  grow  exceeding  strange  :  must  it  be  so  ? 

Salar.  We  '11  make  our  leisures  to  attend  on  yours. 

[Exeunt  Salarino  and  Salanio. 

Lor.  My  Lord  Bassanio,  since  you  have  found  Antonio, 
We  two  will  leave  you  :   but,  at  dinner-time,  70 

I  pray  you,  have  in  mind  where  we  must  meet. 

Bass.  I  will  not  fail  you. 

Gra.  You  look  not  well,  Signior  Antonio ; 

You  have  too  much  respect  upon  the  world : 
They  lose  it  that  do  buy  it  with  much  care : 
Believe  me,  you  are  marvellously  changed. 

Ant.  I  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gratiano ; 
A  stage,  where  every  man  must  play  a  part, 
And  mine  a  sad  one. 

29 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Gra.  Let  me  play  the  fool : 

With  mirth  and  laughter  let  old  wrinkles  come ;      80 

And  let  my  liver  rather  heat  with  wine 

Than  my  heart  cool  with  mortifying  groans. 

Why  should  a  man,  whose  blood  is  warm  within, 

Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster  ? 

Sleep  when  he  wakes,  and  creep  into  the  jaundice 

By  being  peevish  ?    I  tell  thee  what,  Antonio — 

I  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks, — 

There  are  a  sort  of  men,  whose  visages 

Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pond ; 

And  do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain,  90 

With  purpose  to  be  dress'd  in  an  opinion 

Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit ; 

As  who  should  say,  '  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 

And,  when  I  ope  my  lips,  let  no  dog  bark! ' 

0  my  Antonio,  I  do  know  of  these, 
That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise 

For  saying  nothing ;  when,  I  am  very  sure, 

If  they  should   speak,   would   almost   damn   those 

ears, 
Which,  hearing  them,  would  call  their  brothers  fools. 

1  '11  tell  thee  more  of  this  another  time  :  100 
But  fish  not,  with  this  melancholy  bait, 

For  this  fool  gudgeon,  this  opinion. 

Come,  good  Lorenzo.    Fare  ye  well  awhile  : 

I  '11  end  my  exhortation  after  dinner. 
Lor.  Well,  we  will  leave  you,  then,  till  dinner-time : 

I  must  be  one  of  these  same  dumb  wise  men, 

For  Gratiano  never  lets  me  speak. 
Gra.  Well,  keep  me  company  but  two  years  moe, 

Thou  shalt  not  know  the  sound  of  thine  own  tongue. 
Ant.  Farewell:   I  '11  grow  a  talker  for  this  gear.  no 

30 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Gra.  Thanks,  i'  faith  ;  for  silence  is  only  commendable 
In  a  neat's  tongue  dried,  and  a  maid  not  vendible. 

[Exeunt  Gratiano  and  Lorcnzc. 

Ant.  Is  that  any  thing  now  ? 

Bass.  Gratiano  speaks  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing, 
more  than  any  man  in  all  Venice.  His  reasons 
are  as  two  grains  of  wheat  hid  in  two  bushels 
of  chaff:  you  shall  seek  all  day  ere  you  find 
them :  and  when  you  have  them,  they  are  not 
worth  the  search. 

Ant.  Well,  tell  me  now,  what  lady  is  the  same  120 

To  whom  you  swore  a  secret  pilgrimage, 
That  you  to-day  promised  to  tell  me  of  ? 

Bass.  Tis  not  unknown  to  you,  Antonio, 

How  much  I  have  disabled  mine  estate, 

By  something  showing  a  more  swelling  port 

Than  my  faint  means  would  grant  continuance : 

Nor  do  I  now  make  moan  to  be  abridged 

From  such  a  noble  rate  ;  but  my  chief  care 

Is,  to  come  fairly  off  from  the  great  debts, 

Wherein  my  time,  something  too  prodigal,  130 

Hath  left  me  gaged.     To  you,  Antonio, 

I  owe  the  most,  in  money  and  in  love ; 

And  from  your  love  I  have  a  warranty 

To  unburthen  all  my  plots  and  purposes 

How  to  get  clear  of  all  the  debts  I  owe. 

Ant.  I  pray  you,  good  Bassanio,  let  me  know  it ; 
And  if  it  stand,  as  you  yourself  still  do, 
Within  the  eye  of  honour,  be  assured, 
My  purse,  my  person,  my  extremest  means, 
Lie  all  unlock'd  to  your  occasions.  140 

Bass.  In  my  school-days,  when  I  had  lost  one  shaft, 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

I  shot  his  fellow  of  the  self-same  flight 

The  self-same  way  with  more  advised  watch, 

To  find  the  other  forth ;  and  by  adventuring  both, 

I  oft  found  both :   I  urge  this  childhood  proof, 

Because  what  follows  is  pure  innocence. 

I  owe  you  much ;  and,  like  a  wilful  youth, 

That  which  I  owe  is  lost :  but  if  you  please 

To  shoot  another  arrow  that  self  way 

Which  you  did  shoot  the  first,  I  do  not  doubt,         150 

As  I  will  watch  the  aim,  or  to  find  both, 

Or  bring  your  latter  hazard  back  again 

And  thankfully  rest  debtor  for  the  first. 

Ant.  You  know  me  well ;  and  herein  spend  but  time 
To  wind  about  my  love  with  circumstance ; 
And  out  of  doubt  you  do  me  now  more  wrong 
In  making  question  of  my  uttermost, 
Than  if  you  had  made  waste  of  all  I  have : 
Then  do  but  say  to  me  what  I  should  do, 
That  in  your  knowledge  may  by  me  be  done,  16c 

And  I  am  prest  unto  it :   therefore,  speak. 

Bass.  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left ; 

And  she  is  fair,  and,  fairer  than  that  word, 

Of  wondrous  virtues :  sometimes  from  her  eyes 

I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages : 

Her  name  is  Portia ;  nothing  undervalued 

To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia : 

Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth  ; 

For  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 

Renowned  suitors:  and  her  sunny  locks  170 

Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece ; 

Which  makes  her  seat  of  Belmont  Colchos'  strond, 

And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her. 

32 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

0  my  Antonio,  had  I  but  the  means 
To  hold  a  rival  place  with  one  of  them, 

1  have  a  mind  presages  me  such  thrift, 
That  I  should  questionless  be  fortunate ! 

Ant.  Thou  know'st  that  all  my  fortunes  are  at  sea ; 
Neither  have  I  money,  nor  commodity 
To  raise  a  present  sum  :  thereforth  go  forth  ;  180 

Try  what  my  credit  can  in  Venice  do : 
That  shall  be  rack'd,  even  to  the  uttermost, 
To  furnish  thee  to  Belmont,  to  fair  Portia. 
Go,  presently  inquire,  and  so  will  I, 
Where  morley  is ;   and  I  no  question  make, 
To  have  it  of  my  trust,  or  for  my  sake.  f Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Belmont.    A  room  in  Portia's  house. 
Enter  Portia  and  Nerissa. 

For.  By  my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary 
of  this  great  world. 

Ner.  You  would  be,  sweet  madam,  if  your  miseries 
were  in  the  same  abundance  as  your  good  for- 
tunes are :  and  yet,  for  aught  I  see,  they  are  as 
sick  that  surfeit  with  too  much,  as  they  that 
starve  with  nothing.  It  is  no  mean  happiness, 
therefore,  to  be  seated  in  the  mean  :  superfluity 
comes  sooner  by  white  hairs ;  but  competency 
lives  longer.  10 

Por.  Good  sentences,  and  well  pronounced. 

Ner.  They  would  be  better,  if  well  followed. 

Por.  If  to  do  were  as  easy  as  to  know  what  were 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

good  to  do,  chapels  had  been  churches,  and  poor 
men's  cottages  princes'  palaces.  It  is  a  good 
divine  that  follows  his  own  instructions :  I  can 
easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to  be  done, 
than  be  one  of  the  twenty  to  follow  mine  own 
teaching.  The  brain  may  devise  laws  for  the 
blood;  but  a  hot  temper  leaps  o'er  a  cold  de-  20 
cree :  such  a  hare  is  madness  the  youth,  to  skip 
o'er  the  meshes  of  good  counsel  the  cripple.  But 
this  reasoning  is  not  in  the  fashion  to  choose  me 
a  husband.  O  me,  the  word  '  choose  ' !  I  may 
neither  choose  whom  I  would,  nor  refuse  whom 
I  dislike ;  so  is  the  will  of  a  living  daughter 
curbed  by  the  will  of  a  dead  father.  Is  it  not 
hard,  Nerissa,  that  I  cannot  choose  one,  nor 
refuse  none  ? 

Ncr.  Your  father  was  ever  virtuous  ;  and  holy  men,  30 
at  their  death,  have  good  inspirations  :  therefore, 
the  lottery,  that  he  hath  devised  in  these  three 
chests  of  gold,  silver,  and  lead, — whereof  who 
chooses  his  meaning  chooses  you, — will,  no 
doubt,  never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly,  but  one 
who  shall  rightly  love.  But  what  warmth  is 
there  in  your  affection  towards  any  of  these 
princely  suitors  that  are  already  come? 

Por.  I  pray  thee,  over-name  them ;     and    as    thou 

namest  them,  I  will  describe  them  ;   and,  accord-     40 
ing  to  my  description,  level  at  my  affection. 

Ner.  First,  there  is  the  Neapolitan  prince. 

Por.  Ay,  that's  a  colt  indeed,  for  he  doth  nothing 
but  talk  of  his  horse;  and  he  makes  it  a  great 
appropriation  to  his  own  good  parts,  that  he  can 

34 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

shoe  him  himself.     I  am  much  afeard  my  lady 
his  mother  played  false  with  a  smith. 

Ner,  Then  there  is  the  County  Palatine. 

For.  He  doth  nothing  but  frown;    as  who  should 

say,  '  if  you  will  not  have  me,  choose : '  he  hears  50 
merry  tales  and  smiles  not :  I  fear  he  will  prove 
the  weeping  philosopher  when  he  grows  old, 
being  so  full  of  unmannerly  sadness  in  his  youth. 
I  had  rather  be  married  to  a  death's-head  with  a 
bone  in  his  mouth  than  to  either  of  these.  God 
defend  me  from  these  two! 

Ner.  How  say  you  by  the  French  lord,  Monsieur  Le 
Bon? 

For.  God  made  him,  and  therefore  let  him  pass  for  a 

man.  In  truth,  I  know  it  is  a  sin  to  be  a  mocker :  60 
but,  he ! — why,  he  hath  a  horse  better  than  the 
Neapolitan's;  a  better  bad  habit  of  frowning 
than  the  Count  Palatine :  he  is  every  man  in  no 
man ;  if  a  throstle  sing,  he  falls  straight  a  ca- 
pering: he  will  fence  with  his  own  shadow:  if 
I  should  marry  him,  I  should  marry  twenty  hus- 
bands. If  he  would  despise  me,  I  would  forgive 
him;  for  if  he  love  me  to  madness,  I  shall  never 
requite  him. 

Ner.  What  say  you,  then,  to  Falconbridge,  the  young     70 
baron  of  England? 

For.  You  know  I  say  nothing  to  him ;  for  he  under- 
stands not  me,  nor  I  him :  he  hath  neither  Latin, 
French,  nor  Italian ;  and  you  will  come  into  the 
court  and  swear  that  I  have  a  poor  pennyworth 
in  the  English.  He  is  a  proper  man's  picture; 
but,  alas,  who  can  converse  with  a  dumb-show? 

35 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

How  oddly  he  is  suited !     I  think  he  bought  his 
doublet  in  Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his 
bonnet  in  Germany,  and  his  behaviour  every     80 
where. 

Ner.  What  think  you  of  the  Scottish  lord,  his  neigh- 
bour? 

Por.  That  he  hath  a  neighbourly  charity  in  him ;  for 
he  borrowed  a  box  of  the  ear  of  the  Englishman, 
and  swore  he  would  pay  him  again  when  he  was 
able :  I  think  the  Frenchman  became  his  surety, 
and  sealed  under  for  another. 

Ner.  How  like  you  the  young  German,  the  Duke  of 

Saxony's  nephew?  ,  90 

Por.  Very  vilely  in  the  morning,  when  he  is  sober ; 
and  most  vilely  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  is 
drunk :  when  he  is  best,  he  is  a  little  worse  than 
a  man ;  and  when  he  is  worst,  he  is  little  better 
than  a  beast:  an  the  worst  fall  that  ever  fell, 
I  hope  I  shall  make  shift  to  go  without  him. 

Ner.  If  he  should  offer  to  choose,  and  choose  the 
right  casket,  you  should  refuse  to  perform  your 
father's  will,  if  you  should  refuse  to  accept  him. 

Por.  Therefore,  for  fear  of  the  worst,  I  pray  thee,  100 
set  a  deep  glass  of  Rhenish  wine  on  the  contrary 
casket ;  for, if  the  devil  be  within  and  that  temp- 
tation without,  I  know  he  will  choose  it.  I  will 
do  anything,  Nerissa,  ere  I  '11  be  married  to  a 
sponge. 

Ner.  You  need  not  fear,  lady,  the  having  any  of 
these  lords :  they  have  acquainted  me  with  their 
determinations ;  which  is,  indeed,  to  return  to 
their  home,  and  to  trouble  you  with  no  more 

36 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

,     suit,  unless  you  may  be  won  by  some  other  sort  no 
than  your  father's  imposition,  depending  on  the 
caskets. 

Por.  If  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  Sibylla,  I  will  die  as 
chaste  as  Diana,  unless  I  be  obtained  by  the  man- 
ner of  my  father's  will.  I  am  glad  this  parcel  of 
wooers  are  so  reasonable;  for  there  is  not  one 
among  them  but  I  dote  on  his  very  absence ;  and 
I  pray  God  grant  them  a  fair  departure. 

Ner,  Do  you  not  remember,  lady,  in  your  father's  120 
time,  a  Venetian,  a  scholar,  and  a  soldier,  that 
came    hither  in    company  of    the    Marquis  of 
Montf  errat  ? 

Por.  Yes,  yes,  it  was  Bassanio ;  as  I  think  he  was  so 
called. 

Ner.  True,  madam :  he,  of  all  the  men  that  ever  my 
foolish  eyes  looked  upon,  was  the  best  deserving 
a  fair  lady. 

Por.  I  remember  him  well;    and  I  remember  him 

worthy  of  thy  praise.  130 

Enter  a  Serving-man. 

How  now !  what  news  ? 

Serv.  The  four  strangers  seek  for  you,  madam,  to 
take  their  leave :  and  there  is  a  forerunner  come 
from  a  fifth,  the  Prince  of  Morocco ;  who  brings 
word,  the  prince  his  master  will  be  here  to-night. 

Por.  If  I  could  bid  the  fifth  welcome  with  so  good 
a  heart  as  I  can  bid  the  other  four  farewell,  I 
should  be  glad  of  his  approach:  if  he  have  the 
condition  of  a  saint  and  the  complexion  of  a 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  MERCHANT 

devil,  I  had  rather  he  should  shrive  me  than  140 
wive  me. 

Come,  Nerissa.     Sirrah,  go  before. 
Whiles  we  shut  the  gates  upon  one  wooer,  another 
knocks  at  the  door.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Venice.    A  public  place. 
Enter  Bassanio  and  Shylock. 

Shy.  Three  thousand  ducats ;   well. 

Bass.  Ay,  sir,  for  three  months. 

Shy.  For  three  months  ;  well. 

Bass.  For  the  which,  as  I  told  you,  Antonio  shall  be 
bound. 

Shy.  Antonio  shall  become  bound ;   well. 

Bass.  May  you  stead  me?    will  you  pleasure  me? 
shall  I  know  your  answer? 

Shy.  Three  thousand  ducats  for  three  months,  and 

Antonio  bound.  10 

Bass.  Your  answer  to  that. 

Shy.  Antonio  is  a  good  man. 

Bass.  Have  you  heard  any  imputation  to  the  con- 
trary ? 

Shy.  Ho,  no,  no,  no,  no  :  my  meaning,  in  saying  he  is 
a  good  man,  is  to  have  you  understand  me,  that 
he  is  sufficient.  Yet  his  means  are  in  supposi- 
tion :  he  hath  an  argosy  bound  to  Tripolis,  an- 
other to  the  Indies ;  I  understand,  moreover, 
upon  the  Rialto,  he  hath  a  third  at  Mexico,  a 
fourth  for  England,  and  other  ventures  he  hath,  20 
squandered  abroad.  But  ships  are  but  boards, 
sailors  but  men :    there  be  land-rats  and  water- 

38 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

rats,  water-thieves  and  land-thieves,  I  mean 
pirates;  and  then  there  is  the  peril  of  waters, 
winds,  and  rocks.  The  man  is,  notwithstanding, 
sufficient.  Three  thousand  ducats;  I  think  I 
may  take  his  bond. 

Bass.  Be  assured  you  may. 

Shy.  I  will  be  assured  I  may;    and,  that  I  may  be 

assured,  I  will  bethink  me.     May  I  speak  with     30 
Antonio  ? 

Bass.  If  it  please  you  to  dine  with  us. 

Shy.  Yes,  to  smell  pork  ;  to  eat  of  the  habitation 
which  your  prophet  the  Nazarite  conjured  the 
devil  into.  I  will  buy  with  you,  sell  with  you, 
talk  with  you,  walk  with  you,  and  so  following; 
but  I  will  not  eat  with  you,  drink  with  you,  nor 
pray  with  you.  What  news  on  the  Rialto? 
Who  is  he  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Antonio. 

Bass.  This  is  Signior  Antonio.  40 

Shy.   [Aside]   How  like  a  fawning  publican  he  looks ! 
I  hate  him  for  he  is  a  Christian  ; 
But  more  for  that  in  low  simplicity 
He  lends  out  money  gratis  and  brings  down 
The  rate  of  usance  here  with  us  in  Venice. 
If  I  can  catch  him  once  upon  the  hip, 
I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge  I  bear  him. 
He  hates  our  sacred  nation ;   and  he  rails, 
Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate, 
On  me,  my  bargains,  and  my  well-won  thrift,         50 
Which  he  calls  interest.     Cursed  be  my  tribe, 
If  I  forgive  him ! 

3Q 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Bass.  Shylock,  do  you  hear  ? 

Shy.  I  am  debating  of  my  present  store ; 
And,  by  the  near  guess  of  my  memory, 
I  cannot  instantly  raise  up  the  gross 
Of  full  three  thousand  ducats.     What  of  that? 
Tubal,  a  wealthy  Hebrew  of  my  tribe, 
Will  furnish  me.     But  soft !  how  many  months 
Do  you   desire?     [To  Ant.]     Rest  you  fair,  good 

signior; 
Your  worship  was  the  last  man  in  our  mouths.      60 

Ant.  Shylock,  although  I  neither  lend  nor  borrow, 
By  taking  nor  by  giving  of  excess, 
Yet,  to  supply  the  ripe  wants  of  my  friend, 
I  '11  break  a  custom.     Is  he  yet  possess'd 
How  much  ye  would? 

Shy.  Ay,  ay,  three  thousand  ducats. 

Ant.  And  for  three  months. 

Shy.  I  had  forgot ;  three  months,  you  told  me  so. 

Well  then,  your  bond  ;  and  let  me  see  ;  but  hear  you  ; 
Methought  you  said  you  neither  lend  nor  borrow 
Upon  advantage. 

Ant.  I  do  never  use  it.  70 

Shy.  WThen  Jacob  grazed  his  uncle  Laban's  sheep, — 
This  Jacob  from  our  holy  Abram  was, 
As  his  wise  mother  wrought  in  his  behalf, 
The  third  possessor ;  ay,  he  was  the  third, — 

Ant.  And  what  of  him?  did  he  take  interest? 

Shy.  No,  not  take  interest ;   not,  as  you  would  say, 
Directly  interest :   mark  what  Jacob  did. 
When  Laban  and  himself  were  compromised 
That  all  the  eanlings  which  were  streak' d  and  pied 
Should  fall  as  Jacob's  hire,  the  ewes,  being  rank,  80 

40 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

In  the  end  of  Autumn  turned  to  the  rams; 

And  when  the  work  of  generation  was 

Between  these  woolly  breeders  in  the  act, 

The  skilful  shepherd  peel'd  me  certain  wands, 

And,  in  the  doing  of  the  deed  of  kind, 

He  stuck  them  up  before  the  fulsome  ewes, 

Who,  then  conceiving,  did  in  eaning  time 

Fall  parti-colour'd  lambs,  and  those  were  Jacob's. 

This  was  a  way  to  thrive,  and  he  was  blest : 

And  thrift  is  blessing,  if  men  steal  it  not.  90 

Ant.  This  was  a  venture,  sir,  that  Jacob  served  for; 
A  thing  not  in  his  power  to  bring  to  pass, 
But  sway'd  and  fashion'd  by  the  hand  of  heaven. 
Was  this  inserted  to  make  interest  good? 
Or  is  your  gold  and  silver  ewes  and  rams  ? 

57*3/.  I  cannot  tell ;   I  make  it  breed  as  fast : 
But  note  me,  signior. 

Ant.  Mark  you  this,  Bassanio, 

The  devil  can  cite  Scripture  for  his  purpose. 
An  evil  soul,  producing  holy  witness, 
Is  like  a  villain  with  a  smiling  cheek ;  100 

A  goodly  apple  rotten  at  the  heart : 
O,  what  a  goodly  outside  falsehood  hath ! 

Shy.  Three  thousand  ducats ;    'tis  a  good  round  sum, 
Three  months  from  twelve ;    then,  let  me  see ;    the 
rate — 

Ant.  Well,  Shylock,  shall  we  be  beholding  to  you? 

Shy,  Signior  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oft 
In  the  Rialto  you  have  rated  me 
About  my  moneys  and  my  usances : 
Still  have  I  borne  it  with  a  patient  shrug ; 
For  sufferance  is  the  badge  of  all  our  tribe.  no 

^ou  call  me  misbeliever,  cut-throat  dog, 

41 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  THE  MERCHANT 

And  spit  upon  my  Jewish  gaberdine, 

And  all  for  use  of  that  which  is  mine  own. 

Well  then,  it  now  appears  you  need  my  help : 

Go  to,  then ;   you  come  to  me,  and  you  say 

*  Shylock,  we  would  have  moneys  ' :   you  say  so ; 

You,  that  did  void  your  rheum  upon  my  beard, 

And  foot  me  as  you  spurn  a  stranger  cur 

Over  your  threshold :    moneys  is  your  suit. 

What  should  I  say  to  you?     Should  I  not  say      120 

'  Hath  a  dog  money  ?   is  it  possible 

A  cur  can  lend  three  thousand  ducats  ? '    or 

Shall  I  bend  low  and  in  a  bondsman's  key, 

With  bated  breath  and  whispering  humbleness, 

Say  this, — 

'  Fair  sir,  you  spit  on  me  on  Wednesday  last ; 

You  spurn'd  me  such  a  day;   another  time 

You  call'd  me  dog ;  and  for  these  courtesies 

I  '11  lend  you  thus  much  moneys  '  ? 

Ant.  I  am  as  like  to  call  thee  so  again,  130 

To  spit  on  thee  again,  to  spurn  thee  too. 
If  thou  wilt  lend  this  money,  lend  it  not 
As  to  thy  friends ;   for  when  did  friendship  take 
A  breed  for  barren  metal  of  his  friend  ? 
But  lend  it  rather  to  thine  enemy ; 
Who  if  he  break,  thou  mayest  with  better  face 
Exact  the  penalty. 

Shy.  Why,  look  you,  how  you  storm ! 

I  would  be  friends  with  you,  and  have  your  love, 
Forget  the  shames  that  you  have  stain'd  me  with, 
Supply  your  present  wants,  and  take  no  doit  140 

Of  usance  for  my  moneys,  and  you  '11  not  hear  me : 
This  is  kind  I  offer. 

42 


OF  VENICE  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

Bass.  This  were  kindness. 

Shy.  This  kindness  will  I  show. 

Go  with  me  to  a  notary,  seal  me  there 

Your  single  bond ;   and,  in  a  merry  sport, 

If  you  repay  me  not  on  such  a  day, 

In  such  a  place,  such  sum  or  sums  as  are 

Express'd  in  the  condition,  let  the  forfeit 

Be  nominated  for  an  equal  pound 

Of  your  fair  flesh,  to  be  cut  off  and  taken  150 

In  what  part  of  your  body  pleaseth  me. 
Ant.  Content,  i'  faith :   I  '11  seal  to  such  a  bond, 

And  say  there  is  much  kindness  in  the  Jew. 
Bass.  You  shall  not  seal  to  such  a  bond  for  me : 

I  '11  rather  dwell  in  my  necessity. 
Ant.  Why,  fear  not,  man;    I  will  not  forfeit  it: 

Within  these  two  months,  that 's  a  month  before 

This  bond  expires,  I  do  expect  return 

Of  thrice  three  times  the  value  of  this  bond. 
Shy.  O  father  Abram,  what  these  Christians  are,         160 

Whose  own  hard  dealings  teaches  them  suspect 

The  thoughts  of  others  !     Pray  you,  tell  me  this ; 

If  he  should  break  his  day,  what  should  I  gain 

By  the  exaction  of  the  forfeiture? 

A  pound  of  man's  flesh  taken  from  a  man 

Is  not  so  estimable,  profitable  neither, 

As  flesh  of  muttons,  beefs,  or  goats.     I  say, 
To  buy  his  favour,  I  extend  this  friendship : 

If  he  will  take  it,  so  ;   if  not,  adieu  ; 

And,  for  my  love,  I  pray  you  wrong  me  not.  170 

Ant.  Yes,  Shylock,  I  will  seal  unto  this  bond. 
Shy.  Then  meet  me  forthwith  at  the  notary's ; 
Give  him  direction  for  this  merry  bond ; 

43 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

And  I  will  go  and  purse  the  ducats  straight; 

See  to  my  house,  left  in  the  fearful  guard 

Of  an  unthrifty  knave ;  and  presently 

I  will  be  with  you. 
Ant.  Hie  thee,  gentle  Jew.    [Exit  Shylock. 

The  Hebrew  will  turn  Christian :   he  grows  kind. 
Bass.  I  like  not  fair  terms  and  a  villain's  mind. 
Ant.  Come  on  :   in  this  there  can  be  no  dismay;  180 

My  ships  come  home  a  month  before  the  day. 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

•  Belmont.     A  room  in  Portia's  house. 

Flourish  of  cornets.     Enter  the  Prince  of  Morocco  and 
his  train;  Portia,  Ncrissa,  and  others  attending. 

Mor.  Mislike  me  not  for  my  complexion, 

The  shadow'd  livery  of  the  burnish'd  sun, 

To  whom  I  am  a  neighbour  and  near  bred. 

Bring  me  the  fairest  creature  northward  born, 

Where  Phoebus'  fire  scarce  thaws  the  icicles, 

And  let  us  make  incision  for  your  love, 

To  prove  whose  blood  is  reddest,  his  or  mine. 

I  tell  thee,  lady,  this  aspect  of  mine 

Hath  fear'd  the  valiant:   by  my  love,  I  swear 

The  best-regarded  virgins  of  our  clime  10 

Hath  loved  it  too :   I  would  not  change  this  hue, 

Except  to  steal  your  thoughts,  my  gentle  queen. 

Por.  In  terms  of  choice  I  am  not  solely  led 
By  nice  direction  of  a  maiden's  eyes; 

44 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

Besides,  the  lottery  of  my  destiny 

Bars  me  the  right  of  voluntary  choosing : 

But  if  my  father  had  not  scanted  me 

And  hedged  me  by  his  wit,  to  yield  myself 

His  wife  who>  wins  me  by  that  means  I  told  you, 

Yourself,  renowned  prince,  then  stood  as  fair         20 

As  any  comer  I  have  look'd  on  yet 

For  my  affection. 

Mor.  Even  for  that  I  thank  you  : 

Therefore,  I  pray  you,  lead  me  to  the  caskets, 
To  try  my  fortune.     By  this  scimitar 
That  slew  the  Sophy  and  a  Persian  prince 
That  won  three  fields  of  Sultan  Solyman, 
I  would  outstare  the  sternest  eyes  that  look, 
Outbrave  the  heart  most  daring  on  the  earth, 
Pluck  the  young  sucking  cubs  from  the  she-bear, 
Yea,  mock  the  lion  when  he  roars  for  prey,  30 

To  win  thee,  lady.     But,  alas  the  while ! 
If  Hercules  and  Lichas  play  at  dice 
Which  is  the  better  man,  the  greater  throw 
May  turn  by  fortune  from  the  weaker  hand : 
So  is  Alcides  beaten  by  his  page ; 
And  so  may  I,  blind  fortune  leading  me, 
Miss  that  which  one  unworthier  may  attain, 
And  die  with  grieving. 

Por.  You  must  take  your  chance 

And  either  not  attempt  to  choose  at  all, 
Or    swear   before    you    choose,    if   you    choose 

wrong,  40 

Never  to  speak  to  lady  afterward 
In  way  of  marriage :  therefore  be  advised. 

Mor.  Nor  will  not.     Come,  bring  me  unto  my  chance. 

45 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  First,  forward  to  the  temple :  after  dinner 

Your  hazard  shall  be  made. 
Mor.  Good  fortune  then ! 

To  make  me  blest  or  cursed'st  among  men. 

[Comets,  and  exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Venice.     A  street. 

Enter  Launcelot. 

Laun.  Certainly  my  conscience  will  serve  me  to  run 
from  this  Jew  my  master.  The  fiend  is  at  mine 
elbow,  and  tempts  me,  saying  to  me,  *  Gobbo, 
Launcelot  Gobbo,  good  Launcelot,'  or  '  good 
Gobbo,'  or,  '  good  Launcelot  Gobbo,  use  your 
legs,  take  the  start,  run  away.'  My  conscience 
says,  '  No ;  take  heed,  honest  Launcelot ;  take 
heed,  honest  Gobbo,'  or,  as  aforesaid,  '  honest 
Launcelot  Gobbo;  do  not  run;  scorn  running 
with  thy  heels.'  Well,  the  most  courageous  10 
fiend  bids  me  pack :  '  Via ! '  says  the  fiend ; 
'away!'  says  the  fiend;  'for  the  heavens, 
rouse  up  a  brave  mind,'  says  the  fiend,  '  and  run.' 
Well,  my  conscience,  hanging  about  the  neck  of 
my  heart,  says  very  wisely  to  me,  '  My  honest 
friend  Launcelot,  being  an  honest  man's  son,' — 
or  rather  an  honest  woman's  son ; — for,  indeed, 
my  father  did  something  smack,  something 
grow  to,  he  had  a  kind  of  taste ; — well,  my  con- 
science says,  '  Launcelot,  budge  not.'  *  Budge,'  20 
says  the  fiend.  '  Budge  not,'  says  my  con- 
science.   '  Conscience,' say  1/  you  counsel  well'; 

46 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

'  Fiend/  say  I,  '  you  counsel  well  '•:  to  be  ruled 
by  my  conscience,  I  should  stay  with  the  Jew 
my  master,  who,  God  bless  the  mark,  is  a  kind  of 
devil ;  and,  to  run  away  from  the  Jew,  I  should 
be  ruled  by  the  fiend,  who,  saving  your  rever- 
ence, is  the  devil  himself.  Certainly  the  Jew  is 
the  very  devil  incarnal ;  and,  in  my  conscience, 
my  conscience  is  but  a  kind  of  hard  conscience,  30 
to  offer  to  counsel  me  to  stay  with  the  Jew.  The 
fiend  gives  the  more  friendly  counsel:  I  will 
run,  fiend;  my  heels  are  at  your  command;  I 
will  run. 

Enter  Old  Gobbo,  with  a  basket. 

Gob.  Master  young  man,  you,  I  pray  you,  which  is 
the  way  to  master  Jew's  ? 

Laun.  [Aside]  O  heavens,  this  is  my  true-begotten 
father !  who,  being  more  than  sand-blind,  high- 
gravel  blind,  knows  me  not:  I  will  try  con- 
fusions with  him. 

Gob.  Master  young  gentleman,  I  pray  you,  which  is     40 
the  way  to  master  Jew's  ? 

Laun.  Turn  up  on  your  right  hand  at  the  next  turn- 
ing, but,  at  the  next  turning  of  all,  on  your  left ; 
marry,  at  the  very  next  turning,  turn  of  no 
hand,  but  turn  down  indirectly  to  the  Jew's 
house. 

Gob.  By  God's  sonties,  'twill  be  a  hard  way  to  hit. 
Can  you  tell  me  whether  one  Launcelot,  that 
dwells  with  him,  dwell  with  him  or  no  ? 

Laun.  Talk     you     of     young     Master     Launcelot? 

[Aside]   Mark  me  now ;    now  will  I  raise  the     50 
waters.     Talk  you  of  young  Master  Launcelot? 

Gob.  No  master,   sir,   but   a  poor   man's   son :    his 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

father,  though  I  say  it,  is  an  honest  exceeding 
poor  man,  and,  God  be  thanked,  well  to  live. 

Laun.  Well,  let  his  father  be  what  a'  will,  we  talk 
of  young  Master  Launcelot. 

Gob.  Your  worship's  friend,  and  Launcelot,  sir. 

Laun.  But  I  pray  you,  ergo,  old  man,  ergo,  I  beseech 
you,  talk  you  of  young  Master  Launcelot? 

Gob.  Of  Launcelot,  an  't  please  your  mastership.  60 

Laun.  Ergo,  Master  Launcelot.  Talk  not  of  Master 
Launcelot,  father;  for  the  young  gentleman, 
according  to  Fates  and  Destinies  and  such  odd 
sayings,  the  Sisters  Three  and  such  branches  of 
learning,  is  indeed  deceased;  or,  as  you  would 
say  in  plain  terms,  gone  to  heaven. 

Gob.  Marry,  God  forbid!  the  boy  was  the  very 
staff  of  my  age,  my  very  prop. 

Laun.  Do  I  look  like  a  cudgel  or  a  hovel-post,  a 

staff  or  a  prop  ?     Do  you  know  me,  father  ?  70 

Gob.  Alack  the  day,  I  know  you  not,  young  gentle- 
man :  but,  I  pray  you,  tell  me,  is  my  boy,  God 
rest  his  soul,  alive  or  dead? 

Laun.  Do  you  not  know  me,  father? 

Gob.  Alack,  sir,  I  am  sand-blind ;   I  know  you  not. 

Laun.  Nay,  indeed,  if  you  had  your  eyes,  you  might 
fail  of  the  knowing  me :  it  is  a  wise  father  that 
knows  his  own  child.  Well,  old  man,  I  will 
tell  you  news  of  your  son :  give  me  your  bless- 
ing: truth  will  come  to  light;  murder  cannot  80 
be  hid  long;  a  man's  son  may;  but,  at  the 
length,  truth  will  out. 

Gob.  Pray  you,  sir,  stand  up :  I  am  sure  you  are  not 
Launcelot,  my  boy. 

48 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Laun.  Pray  you,  let  's  have  no  more  fooling  about  it, 
but  give  me  your  blessing:  I  am  Launcelot, 
your  boy  that  was,  your  son  that  is,  your  child 
that  shall  be. 

Gob.  I  cannot  think  you  are  my  son. 

Laun.  I  know  not  what  I  shall  think  of  that:   but  I 

am  Launcelot,  the  Jew's  man ;    and  I  am  sure     90 
Margery  your  wife  is  my  mother. 

Gob.  Her  name  is  Margery,  indeed :  I  '11  be  sworn, 
if  thou  be  Launcelot,  thou  art  mine  own  flesh 
and  blood.  Lord  worshipped  might  he  be! 
what  a  beard  hast  thou  got !  thou  hast  got  more 
hair  on  thy  chin  than  Dobbin  my  fill-horse  has 
on  his  tail. 

Laun.  It  should  seem,  then,  that  Dobbin's  tail  grows 
backward :  I  am  sure  he  had  more  hair  of  his 
tail  than  I  have  of  my  face  when  I  last  saw  him.   100 

Gob.  Lord,  how  art  thou  changed !  How  dost  thou 
and  thy  master  agree?  I  have  brought  him  a 
present.     How  'gree  you  now? 

Laun.  Well,  well:  but,  for  mine  own  part,  as  I 
have  set  up  my  rest  to  run  away,  so  I  will  not 
rest  till  I  have  run  some  ground.  My  master  's 
a  very  Jew :  give  him  a  present !  give  him  a 
halter :  I  am  famished  in  his  service ;  you  may 
tell  every  finger  I  have  with  my  ribs.  Father, 
I  am  glad  you  are  come:  give  me  your  present  no 
to  one  Master  Bassanio,  who,  indeed,  gives  rare 
new  liveries:  if  I  serve  not  him,  I  will  run  as 
far  as  God  has  any  ground.  O  rare  fortune! 
here  comes  the  man :  to  him,  father ;  for  I  am 
a  Jew,  if  I  serve  the  Jew  any  longer. 

49 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Enter  Bassanio,  with  Leonardo  and  other  followers. 

Bass.  You  may  do  so;  but  let  it  be  so  hasted,  that 
supper  be  ready  at  the  farthest  by  five  of  the 
clock.  See  these  letters  delivered;  put  the  liv- 
eries to  making;  and  desire  Gratiano  to  come 
anon  to  my  lodging.  [Exit  a  Servant.   120 

Laun.  To  him,  father. 

Gob.  God  bless  your  worship ! 

Bass.  Gramercy !  wouldst  thou  aught  with  me  ? 

Gob.  Here  's  my  son,  sir,  a  poor  boy, — 

Laun.  Not  a  poor  boy,  sir,  but  the  rich  Jew's 
man ;  that  would,  sir, — as  my  father  shall 
specify, — 

Gob.  He  hath  a  great  infection,  sir,  as  one  would 
say,  to  serve — 

Laun.  Indeed,  the  short  and  the  long  is,  I  serve  the  130 
Jew,   and   have   a   desire, — as   my    father   shall 
specify, — 

Gob.  His  master  and  he,  saving  your  worship's  rev- 
erence, are  scarce  cater-cousins, — 

Laun.  To  be  brief,  the  very  truth  is  that  the  Jew, 
having  done  me  wrong,  doth  cause  me, — as  my 
father,  being,  I  hope,  an  old  man,  shall  frutify 
unto  you, — 

Gob.  I  have  here  a  dish  of  doves  that  I  would  be- 
stow upon  your  worship,  and  my  suit  is, —  140 

Laun.  In  very  brief,  the  suit  is  impertinent  to  my- 
self, as  your  worship  shall  know  by  this  honest 
old  man ;  and,  though  I  say  it,  though  old  man, 
yet  poor  man,  my  father. 

Bass.  One  speak  for  both.     What  would  you  ? 

50 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Lann.  Serve  you,  sir. 

Gob.  That  is  the  very  defect  of  the  matter,  sir. 

Bass.  I  know  thee  well ;  thou  hast  obtain'd  thy  suit : 
Shylock  thy  master  spoke  with  me  this  day, 
And  hath  preferr'd  thee,  if  it  be  preferment  150 

To  leave  a  rich  Jew's  service,  to  become 
The  follower  of  so  poor  a  gentleman. 

Latin.  The  old  proverb  is  very  well  parted  between 
my  master  Shylock  and  you,  sir:  you  have  the 
grace  of  God,  sir,  and  he  hath  enough. 

Bass.  Thou  speak'st  it  well.     Go,   father,  with  thy 
son. 
Take  leave  of  thy  old  master  and  inquire 
My  lodging  out.     Give  him  a  livery 
More  guarded  than  his  fellows' :   see  it  done. 

Laun.  Father,  in.  I  cannot  get  a  service,  no ;  I  have  160 
ne'er  a  tongue  in  my  head.  Well,  if  any  man 
in  Italy  have  a  fairer  table  which  doth  offer  to 
swear  upon  a  book,  I  shall  have  good  fortune. 
Go  to,  here  's  a  simple  line  of  life :  here 's  a 
small  trifle  of  wives :  alas,  fifteen  wives  is 
nothing!  a'leven  widows  and  nine  maids  is  a 
simple  coming-in  for  one  man :  and  then  to 
'scape  drowning  thrice,  and  to  be  in  peril  of  my 
life  with  the  edge  of  a  feather-bed ;  here  are 
simple  scapes.  Well,  if  Fortune  be  a  woman,  170 
she  's  a  good  wench  for  this  gear.  Father,  come ; 
I  '11  take  my  leave  of  the  Jew  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye.  [Exeunt  Launcelot  and  Old  Gobbo. 

Bass.  I  pray  thee,  good  Leonardo,  think  on  this : 

These  things  being  bought  and  orderly  bestow'd, 
Return  in  haste,  for  I  do  feast  to-night 

5i 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

My  best-esteem 'd  acquaintance  :   hie  thee,  go. 
Leon.  My  best  endeavours  shall  be  done  herein. 

Enter  Gratiano. 

Gra.  Where  is  your  master  ? 

Leon.  Yonder,  sir,  he  walks.      [Exit. 

Gra.  Signior  Bassanio, —  180 

Bass.  Gratiano! 

Gra.  I  have  a  suit  to  you. 

Bass.  You  have  obtain'd  it. 

Gra.  -You  must  not  deny  me :   I  must  go  with  you  to 
Belmont. 

Bass.  Why,  then  you  must.     But  hear  thee,  Gratiano : 
Thou  art  too  wild,  too  rude,  and  bold  of  voice ; 
Parts  that  become  thee  happily  enough, 
And  in  such  eyes  as  ours  appear  not  faults ; 
But  where  thou  art  not  known,  why  there  they  show 
Something  too  liberal.     Pray  thee,  take  pain        190 
To  allay  with  some  cold  drops  of  modesty 
Thy    skipping    spirit ;     lest,    through  thy  wild    be- 
haviour, 
I  be  misconstrued  in  the  place  I  go  to, 
And  lose  my  hopes. 

Gra.  Signior  Bassanio,  hear  me : 

If  I  do  not  put  on  a  sober  habit, 
Talk  with  respect,  and  swear  but  now  and  then, 
Wear  prayer-books  in  my  pocket,  look  demurely ; 
Nay  more,  while  grace  is  saying,  hood  mine  eyes 
Thus  with  my  hat,  and  sigh,  and  say  '  amen  ' ; 
Use  all  the  observance  of  civility,  200 

Like  one  well  studied  in  a  sad  ostent 
To  please  his  grandam,  never  trust  me  more. 

Bass.  Well,  we  shall  see  your  bearing. 

52 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Gra.  Nay,  but  I  bar  to-night :   you  shall  not  gauge  me 
By  what  we  do  to-night. 

Bass.  No,  that  were  pity  : 

I  would  entreat  you  rather  to  put  on 
Your  boldest  suit  of  mirth,  for  we  have  friends 
That  purpose  merriment.     But  fare  you  well : 
I  have  some  business. 

Gra.  And  I  must  to  Lorenzo  and  the  rest :  210 

But  we  will  visit  you  at  supper-time.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  III. 

The  same.     A  room  in  Shy  lock's  house. 
Enter  Jessica  and  Launcelot. 

Jes.  I  am  sorry  thou  wilt  leave  my  father  so : 
Our  house  is  hell ;   and  thou,  a  merry  devil, 
Didst  rob  it  of  some  taste  of  tediousness. 
But  fare  thee  well ;  there  is  a  ducat  for  thee : 
And,  Launcelot,  soon  at  supper  shalt  thou  see 
Lorenzo,  who  is  thy  new  master's  guest : 
Give  him  this  letter ;    do  it  secretly ; 
And  so  farewell :   I  would  not  have  my  father 
See  me  in  talk  with  thee. 

Laun.  Adieu!  tears  exhibit  my  tongue.     Most  beau-     10 
tiful  pagan,  most  sweet  Jew !   if  a  Christian  did 
not  play  the  knave,  and  get  thee,  I  am  much  de- 
ceived.    But,    adieu:     these    foolish    drops    do 
something  drown  my  manly  spirit:    adieu. 
.  Jes.  Farewell,  good  Launcelot.  [Exit  Launcelot. 

Alack,  what  heinous  sin  is  it  in  me 
To  be  ashamed  to  be  my  father's  child ! 
But  though  I  am  a  daughter  to  his  blood, 

53 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  THE  MERCHANT 

I  am  not  to  his  manners.     O  Lorenzo, 

If  thou  keep  promise,  I  shall  end  this  strife,  20 

Become  a  Christian,  and  thy  loving  wife.  [Exit. 

Scene   IV. 

The  same,     A  street. 
Enter  Gratiano,  Lorenzo,  Salarino,  and  Salanio. 

Lor.  Nay,  we  will  slink  away  in  supper-time, 

Disguise  us  at  my  lodging,  and  return 

All  in  an  hour. 
Gra,  We  have  not  made  good  preparation. 
Salar.  We  have  not  spoke  us  yet  of  torch-bearers. 
Salan.  'Tis  vile,  unless  it  may  be  quaintly  order'd, 

And  better  in  my  mind  not  undertook. 
Lor.  Tis  now  but  four  o'clock :   we  have  two  hours 

To  furnish  us. 

Enter  Launcelot,  with  a  letter. 

Friend  Launcelot,  what 's  the  news  ? 
Laun.  An  it  shall  please  you  to  break  up  this,  it  shall     10 

seem  to  signify. 
Lor.  I  know  the  hand :   in  faith,  'tis  a  fair  hand ; 

And  whiter  than  the  paper  it  writ  on 

Is  the  fair  hand  that  writ. 
Gra.  Love-news,  in  faith. 

Latin.  By  your  leave,  sir. 
Lor.  Whither  goest  thou? 
Laun.  Marry,  sir,  to  bid  my  old  master  the  Jew  to 

sup  to-night  with  my  new  master  the  Christian. 
Lor.  Hold  here,  take  this :  tell  gentle  Jessica 

I  will  not  fail  her ;   speak  it  privately.  20 

54 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  v. 

Go,  gentlemen,  [Exit  Launcelot. 

Will  you  prepare  you  for  this  masque  to-night? 

I  am  provided  of  a  torch-bearer. 
Salar.  Ay,  marry,  I  '11  begone  about  it  straight. 
Salan.  And  so  will  I. 
Lor.  Meet  me  and  Gratiano 

At  Gratiano's  lodging  some  hour  hence. 
Salar.  Tis  good  we  do  so.         [Exeunt  Salar.  and  Salan. 
Gra.  Was  not  that  letter  from  fair  Jessica  ? 
Lor.  I  must  needs  tell  thee  all.     She  hath  directed 

How  I  shall  take  her  from  her  father's  house ;        30 

What  gold  and  jewels. she  is  furnish'd  with; 

What  page's  suit  she  hath  in  readiness. 

If  e'er  the  Jew  her  father  come  to  heaven, 

It  will  be  for  his  gentle  daughter's  sake : 

And  never  dare  misfortune  cross  her  foot, 

Unless  she  do  it  under  this  excuse, 

That  she  is  issue  to  a  faithless  Jew. 

Come,  go  with  me ;   peruse  this  as  thou  goest : 

Fair  Jessica  shall  be  my  torch-bearer.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V. 

The  same.     Before  Shylock's  house. 
Enter  Shylock  and  Launcelot. 

Shy.  Well,  thou  shalt  see,  thy  eyes  shall  be  thy  judge, 
The  difference  of  old  Shylock  and  Bassanio : — 
What,  Jessica ! — thou  shalt  not  gormandise, 
As  thou  hast  done  with  me: — What,  Jessica! — 
And  sleep  and  snore,  and  rend  apparel  out ; — 
Why,  Jessica,  I  say! 

Latin.  Why,  Jessica ! 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  v.  THE  MERCHANT 

Shy.  Who  bids  thee  call?     I  do  not  bid  thee  call. 
Latin.  Your  worship  was  wont  to  tell  me  that  I  could 
do  nothing  without  bidding. 

Enter  Jessica. 

Jes.  Call  you?   what  is  your  will?  10 

Shy.  I  am  bid  forth  to  supper,  Jessica : 

There  are  my  keys.     But  wherefore  should  I  go? 
I  am  not  bid  for  love ;  they  flatter  me : 
But  yet  I  '11  go  in  hate,  to  feed  upon 
The  prodigal  Christian.     Jessica,  my  girl, 
Look  to  my  house.     I  am  right  loath  to  go: 
There  is  some  ill  a-brewing  towards  my  rest, 
For  I  did  dream  of  money-bags  to-night. 

Laun.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  go:  my  young  master  doth 

expect  your  reproach.  20 

Shy.  So  do  I  his. 

Laun.  And  they  have  conspired  together,  I  will  not 
say  you  shall  see  a  masque ;  but  if  you  do,  then 
it  was  not  for  nothing  that  my  nose  fell  a-bleed- 
ing  on  Black-Monday  last  at  six  o'clock  i'  the 
morning,  falling  out  that  year  on  Ash-Wednes- 
day was  four  year,  in  the  afternoon. 

Shy.  What,  are  there  masques  ?     Hear  you  me,  Jessica  : 
Lock  up  my  doors ;  and  when  you  hear  the  drum, 
And  the  vile  squealing  of  the  wry-neck'd  fife,         30 
Clamber  not  you  up  to  the  casements  then, 
Nor  thrust  your  head  into  the  public  street 
To  gaze  on  Christian  fools  with  varnish'd  faces ; 
But  stop  my  house's  ears,  I  mean  my  casements : 
Let  not  the  sound  of  shallow  foppery  enter 
My  sober  house.     By  Jacob's  staff,  I  swear 

56 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  vi. 

I  have  no  mind  of  feasting  forth  to-night : 
But  I  will  go.  Go  you  before  me,  sirrah ; 
Say  I  will  come. 

Laun.  I  will  go  before,  sir.     Mistress,  look  out  at     40 
window,  for  all  this ; 

There  will  come  a  Christian  by, 

Will  be  worth  a  Jewess'  eye.  [Exit 

Shy.  What  says  the  fool  of  Hagar's  offspring,  ha  ? 

Jes.-  His  words  were,  '  Farewell,  mistress; '  nothing  else. 

Shy.  The  patch  is  kind  enough,  but  a  huge  feeder  ; 
Snail-slow  in  profit,  and  he  sleeps  by  day 
More  than  the  wild-cat :   drones  hive  not  with  me ; 
Therefore  I  part  with  him ;   and  part  with  him 
To  one  that  I  would  have  him  help  to  waste  50 

His  borrow'd  purse.     Well,  Jessica,  go  in : 
Perhaps  I  will  return  immediately : 
Do  as  I  bid  you  ;  shut  doors  after  you : 
Fast  bind,  fast  find, 
A  proverb  never  stale  in  thrifty  mind.  [Exit. 

Jes.  Farewell ;   and  if  my  fortune  be  not  crost, 

I  have  a  father,  you  a  daughter,  lost.  [Exit. 

Scene  VI. 

The  same. 
Enter  Gratiano  and  Salarino,  masqued. 

Gra.  This  is  the  pent-house  under  which  Lorenzo 

Desired  us  to  make  stand. 
Salar.  His  hour  is  almost  past. 

Gra.  And  it  is  marvel  he  out-dwells  his  hour, 

For  lovers  ever  run  before  the  clock. 
Salar.  O,  ten  times  faster  Venus'  pigeons  fly 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  vi.  THE  MERCHANT 

To  seal  love's  bonds  new-made,  than  they  are  wont 
To  keep  obliged  faith  unforfeited ! 

Gra.  That  ever  holds :  who  riseth  from  a  feast 
With  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down? 
Where  is  the  horse  that  doth  untread  again  10 

His  tedious  measures  with  the  unbated  fire 
That  he  did  pace  them  first  ?     All  things  that  are, 
Are  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoy'd. 
How  like  a  younker  or  a  prodigal 
The  scarfed  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind! 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return, 
With  over-weather'd  ribs  and  ragged  sails, 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggar 'd  by  the  strumpet  wind ! 

Salar.  Here  comes  Lorenzo :    more  of  this  hereafter.    20 

Enter  Lorenzo. 

Lor.  Sweet  friends,  your  patience  for  my  long  abode ; 
Not  I,  but  my  afifairs,  have  made  you  wait : 
When  you  shall  please  to  play  the  thieves  for  wives, 
I  '11  watch  as  long  for  you  then.     Approach ; 
Here  dwells  my  father  Jew.     Ho!   who  's  within? 

Enter  Jessica,  above,  in  boy's  clothes. 

Jes.  Who  are  you  ?     Tell  me,  for  more  certainty, 
Albeit  I  '11  swear  that  I  do  know  your  tongue. 

Lor.  Lorenzo,  and  thy  love. 

Jes.  Lorenzo,  certain ;   and  my  love,  indeed, 

For  who  love  I  so  much  ?     And  now  who  knows 
But  you,  Lorenzo,  whether  I  am  yours?  31 

Lor.  Heaven  and  thy  thoughts  are  witness  that  thou  art. 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  vi. 

Jcs.  Here,  catch  this  casket ;    it  is  worth  the  pains. 

I  am  glad  'tis  night,  you  do  not  look  on  me, 

For  I  am  much  ashamed  of  my  exchange : 

But  love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 

The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit ; 

For  if  they  could,  Cupid  himself  would  blush 

To  see  me  thus  transformed  to  a  boy. 
Lor.  Descend,  for  you  must  be  my  torch-bearer.  40 

Jcs.  What,  must  I  hold  a  candle  to  my  shames? 

They  in  themselves,  good  sooth,  are  too  too  light. 

Why,  'tis  an  office  of  discovery,  love ; 

And  I  should  be  obscured. 
Lor.  So  are  you,  sweet, 

Even  in  the  lovely  garnish  of  a  boy. 

But  come  at  once; 

For  the  close  night  doth  play  the  runaway, 

And  we  are  stay'd  for  at  Bassanio's  feast. 
Jes.  I  will  make  fast  the  doors,  and  gild  myself 

With  some  mo  ducats,  and  be  with  you  straight.    50 

[Exit  above. 
Gra.  Now,  by  my  hood,  a  Gentile,  and  no  Jew. 
Lor.  Beshrew  me  but  I  love  her  heartily ; 

For  she  is  wise,  if  I  can  judge  of  her ; 

And  fair  she  is,  if  that  mine  eyes  be  true ; 

And  true  she  is,  as  she  hath  proved  herself ; 

And  therefore,  like  herself,  wise,  fair,  and  true, 

Shall  she  be  placed  in  my  constant  soul. 

Enter  Jessica,  below. 

What,  art  thou  come?     On,  gentlemen;  away! 
Our  masquing  mates  by  this  time  for  us  stay. 

[Exit  zi'ith  Jessica  and  Salarino. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Enter  Antonio. 

Ant.  Who  's  there  ?  60 

Gra.  Signior  Antonio ! 

Ant.  Fie,  fie,  Gratiano;   where  are  all  the  rest? 

'Tis  nine  o'clock :   our  friends  all  stay  for  you. 

No  masque  to-night :   the  wind  is  come  about; 

Bassanio  presently  will  go  aboard : 

I  have  sent  twenty  out  to  seek  for  you. 
Gra.  I  am  glad  on  't :   I  desire  no  more  delight 

Than  to  be  under  sail  and  gone  to-night.        [Exeunt. 

Scene  VII. 

Belmont.     A  room  in  Portia's  house. 

Flourish  of  cornets.     Enter  Portia,  zvith  the  Prince  of 
Morocco,  and  their  trains. 

Por.  Go  draw  aside  the  curtains,  and  discover 
The  several  caskets  to  this  noble  prince. 
Now  make  your  choice. 

Mor.  The  first,  of  gold,  who  this  inscription  bears, 

'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire ;' 
The  second,  silver,  which  this  promise  carries, 
*  Who  chooseth   me   shall  get   as   much   as   he   de- 
serves ; ' 
This  third,  dull  lead,  with  warning  all  as  blunt, 
'  Who   chooseth   me  must  give   and   hazard  all   he 

hath/ 
How  shall  I  know  if  I  do  choose  the  right  ?  10 

Por.  The  one  of  them  contains  my  picture,  prince : 
If  you  choose  that,  then  I  am  yours  withal. 

Mor.  Some  god  direct  my  judgement !     Let  me  see ; 
I  will  survey  the  inscriptions  back  again. 
What  says  this  leaden  casket? 

60 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  vii. 

'  Who  chooseth  me  must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath.' 
Must  give, — for  what  ?   for  lead  ?   hazard  for  lead  ? 
This  casket  threatens.     Men  that  hazard  all 
Do  it  in  hope  of  fair  advantages : 
A  golden  mind  stoops  not  to  shows  of  dross ;  20 

I  '11  then  nor  give  nor  hazard  aught  for  lead. 
What  says  the  silver  with  her  virgin  hue  ? 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves.' 
As  much  as  he  deserves !     Pause  there,  Morocco, 
And  weigh  thy  value  with  an  even  hand : 
If  thou  be'st  rated  by  thy  estimation, 
Thou  dost  deserve  enough ;   and  yet  enough 
May  not  extend  so  far  as  to  the  lady : 
And  yet  to  be  afeared  of  my  deserving 
Were  but  a  weak  disabling  of  myself.  30 

As  much  as  I  deserve !     Why,  that 's  the  lady : 
I  do  in  birth  deserve  her,  and  in  fortunes, 
In  graces  and  in  qualities  of  breeding; 
But  more  than  these,  in  love  I  do  deserve. 
What  if  I  stray'd  no  further,  but  chose  here  ? 
Let 's  see  once  more  this  saying  graved  in  gold ; 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire.' 
Why,  that 's  the  lady  ;  all  the  world  desires  her  ; 
From  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  they  come, 
To  kiss  this  shrine,  this  mortal-breathing  saint:    40 
The  Hyrcanian  deserts  and  the  vasty  wilds 
Of  wide  Arabia  are  as  throughfares  now 
For  princes  to  come  view  fair  Portia : 
The  watery  kingdom,  whose  ambitious  head 
.     Spits  in  the  face  of  heaven,  is  no  bar 

To  stop  the  foreign  spirits ;   but  they  come, 
As  o'er  a  brook,  to  see  fair  Portia. 
61 


Act  II.  Sc.  vii.  THE  MERCHANT 

One  of  these  three  contains  her  heavenly  picture. 
Is  't  like  that  lead  contains  her  ?     'Twere  damnation 
To  think  so  base  a  thought :  it  were  too  gross         50 
To  rib  her  cerecloth  in  the  obscure  grave. 
Or  shall  I  think  in  silver  she  's  immured, 
Being  ten  times  undervalued  to  tried  gold  ? 
O  sinful  thought !     Never  so  rich  a  gem 
Was  set  in  worse  than  gold.     They  have  in  England 
A  coin  that  bears  the  figure  of  an  angel 
Stamped  in  gold,  but  that 's  insculp'd  upon ; 
But  here  an  angel  in  a  golden  bed 
Lies  all  within.     Deliver  me  the  key : 
Here  do  I  choose,  and  thrive  I  as  I  may !  60 

Por.  There,  take  it,  prince ;   and  if  my  form  lie  there, 

Then  I  am  yours.       [He  unlocks  the  golden  casket. 
Mor.  O  hell !  what  have  we  here  ? 

A  carrion  Death,  within  whose  empty  eye 
There  is  a  written  scroll !     I  '11  read  the  writing. 
[Reads]  All  that  glisters  is  not  gold ; 

Often  have  you  heard  that  told : 
Many  a  man  his  life  hath  sold 
But  my  outside  to  behold : 
Gilded  tombs  do  worms  infold. 
Had  you  been  as  wise  as  bold,  70 

Young  in  limbs,  in  judgement  old, 
Your  answer  had  not  been  inscroll'd: 
Fare  you  well ;  your  suit  is  cold. 
Cold,  indeed;   and  labour  lost: 
Then,  farewell,  heat,  and  welcome,  frost ! 
Portia,  adieu.     I  have  too  grieved  a  heart 
To  take  a  tedious  leave :   thus  losers  part. 

[Exit  with  his  train.     Flourish  of  comets, 
62 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  viii. 

Por.  A  gentle  riddance.     Draw  the  curtains,  go. 

Let  all  of  his  complexion  choose  me  so.       [Exeunt. 

Scene  VIII. 

Venice.     A  street. 
Enter  Salarino  and  Salanio. 

Salar.  Why,  man,  I  saw  Bassanio  under  sail: 

With  him  is  Gratiano  gone  along ; 

And  in  their  ship  I  am  sure  Lorenzo  is  not. 
Salan.  The  villain  Jew  with  outcries  raised  the  Duke, 

Who  went  with  him  to  search  Bassanio's  ship. 
Salar.  He  came  too  late,  the  ship  was  under  sail : 

But  there  the  Duke  was  given  to  understand 

That  in  a  gondola  were  seen  together 

Lorenzo  and  his  amorous  Jessica : 

Besides,  Antonio  certified  the  Duke  io 

They  were  not  with  Bassanio  in  his  ship. 
Salan.  I  never  heard  a  passion  so  confused, 

So  strange,  outrageous,  and  so  variable, 

As  the  dog  Jew  did  utter  in  the  streets : 

'  My  daughter  !     O  my  ducats  !     O  my  daughter ! 

Fled  with  a  Christian  !     O  my  Christian  ducats ! 

Justice !  the  law !  my  ducats,  and  my  daughter ! 

A  sealed  bag,  two  sealed  bags  of  ducats, 

Of  double  ducats,  stolen  from  me  by  my  daughter ! 

And  jewels,  two  stones,  two  rich  and  precious  stones, 

Stolen  by  my  daughter !     Justice  !  find  the  girl !      21 

She  hath  the  stones  upon  her,  and  the  ducats ! ' 
Salar.  Why,  all  the  boys  in  Venice  follow  him, 

Crying,  his  stones,  his  daughter,  and  his  ducats. 

63 


Act  II.  Sc.  viii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Salan.  Let  good  Antonio  look  he  keep  his  day, 
Or  he  shall  pay  for  this. 

Salar.  Marry,  well  remember'd. 

I  reason 'd  with  a  Frenchman  yesterday, 
Who  told  me,  in  the  narrow  seas  that  part 
The  French  and  English,  there  miscarried 
A  vessel  of  our  country  richly  fraught :  30 

I  thought  upon  Antonio  when  he  told  me ; 
And  wish'd  in  silence  that  it  were  not  his. 

Salan.  You  were  best  to  tell  Antonio  what  you  hear ; 
Yet  do  not  suddenly,  for  it  may  grieve  him. 

Salar.  A  kinder  gentleman  treads  not  the  earth. 
I  saw  Bassanio  and  Antonio  part : 
Bassanio  told  him  he  would  make  some  speed 
Of  his  return  :   he  answer'd,  '  Do  not  so ; 
Slubber  not  business  for  my  sake,  Bassanio, 
But  stay  the  very  riping  of  the  time ;  40 

And  for  the  Jew's  bond  which  he  hath  of  me, 
Let  it  not  enter  in  your  mind  of  love : 
Be  merry ;   and  employ  your  chiefest  thoughts 
To  courtship,  and  such  fair  ostents  of  love 
As  shall  conveniently  become  you  there : ' 
And  even  there,  his  eye  being  big  with  tears, 
Turning  his  face,  he  put  his  hand  behind  him, 
And  with  affection  wondrous  sensible 
He  wrung  Bassanio's  hand ;   and  so  they  parted. 

Salan.  I  think  he  only  loves  the  world  for  him.  50 

I  pray  thee,  let  us  go  and  find  him  out, 
And  quicken  his  embraced  heaviness 
With  some  delight  or  other. 
Salar.  Do  we  so.      [Exeunt. 


64 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ix. 

Scene  IX. 

Belmont.     A  room  in  Portia  s  house. 

Enter  Nerissa  and  a  Servitor. 

Ner.  Quick,    quick,    I    pray    thee :     draw    the    curtain 
straight : 
The  Prince  of  Arragon  hath  ta'en  his  oath, 
And  comes  to  his  election  presently. 

Flourish  of  comets.     Enter  the  Prince  of  Arragon,  Por- 
tia, and  their  trains. 

Por.  Behold,  there  stand  the  caskets,  noble  prince : 
If  you  choose  that  wherein  I  am  contain'd, 
Straight  shall  our  nuptial  rites  be  solemnized : 
But  if  you  fail,  without  more  speech,  my  lord, 
You  must  be  gone  from  hence  immediately. 

Ar.  I  am  enjoin'd  by  oath  to  observe  three  things: 

First,  never  to  unfold  to  any  one  10 

Which  casket  'twas  I  chose;  next,  if  I  fail 

Of  the  right  casket,  never  in  my  life 

To  woo  a  maid  in  way  of  marriage : 

Lastly, 

If  I  do  fail  in  fortune  of  my  choice, 

Immediately  to  leave  you  and  be  gone. 

Por.  To  these  injunctions  every  one  doth  swear 
That  comes  to  hazard  for  my  worthless  self. 

Ar,  And  so  have  I  address'd  me.     Fortune  now 

To    my    heart's    hope!     Gold;     silver;     and    base 
lead.  20 

'  Who  chooseth  me  must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath/ 
You  shall  look  fairer,  ere  I  give  or  hazard. 
What  says  the  golden  chest  ?   ha !    let  me  see : 
*  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire/ 

65 


Act  II.  Sc.  ix.  THE  MERCHANT 

What  many  men  desire !   that  '  many  '  may  be  meant 
By  the  fool  multitude,  that  choose  by  show, 
Not  learning  more  than  the  fond  eye  doth  teach ; 
Which  pries  not  to  the  interior,  but,  like  the  martlet, 
Builds  in  the  weather  on  the  outward  wall, 
Even  in  the  force  and  road  of  casualty.  30 

I  will  not  choose  what  many  men  desire, 
Because  I  will  not  jump  with  common  spirits, 
And  rank  me  with  the  barbarous  multitudes. 
Why,  then  to  thee,  thou  silver  treasure-house ; 
Tell  me  once  more  what  title  thou  dost  bear: 
'  Who  chooseth   me   shall  get  as   much   as   he   de- 
serves : ' 
And  well  said  too ;  for  who  shall  go  about 
To  cozen  fortune,  and  be  honourable 
Without  the  stamp  of  merit?     Let  none  presume 
To  wear  an  undeserved  dignity.  40 

O,  that  estates,  degrees  and  offices 
Were  not  derived  corruptly,  and  that  clear  honour 
Were  purchased  by  the  merit  of  the  wearer ! 
How  many  then  should  cover  that  stand  bare ! 
How  many  be  commanded  that  command ! 
How  much  low  peasantry  would  then  be  glean'd 
From  the  true  seed  of  honour !   and  how  much  hon- 
our 
Pick'd  from  the  chaff  and  ruin  of  the  times, 
To  be  new-varnish'd !     Well,  but  to  my  choice : 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves.' 
I  will  assume  desert.     Give  me  a  key  for  this,        51 
And  instantly  unlock  my  fortunes  here. 

[He  opens  the  silver  casket. 

Por.   [Aside]   Too  long  a  pause  for  that  which  you  find 
there. 

Ar.  What 's  here?  the  portrait  of  a  blinking  idiot, 

66 


OF  VENICE  Act  II.  Sc.  ix. 

Presenting  me  a  schedule !     I  will  read  it. 
How  much  unlike  art  thou  to  Portia ! 
How  much  unlike  my  hopes  and  my  deservings ! 
*  Who  chooseth  me  shall  have  as  much  as  he  de- 
serves/ 
Did  I  deserve  no  more  than  a  fool's  head  ? 
Is  that  my  prize  ?  are  my  deserts  no  better  ?  60 

Por.  To  offend,  and  judge,  are  distinct  offices, 

And  of  opposed  natures. 
Ar.  What  is  here? 

[Reads]   The  fire  seven  times  tried  this : 

Seven  times  tried  that  judgement  is, 

That  did  never  choose  amiss. 

Some  there  be  that  shadows  kiss ; 

Such  have  but  a  shadow's  bliss : 

There  be  fools  alive,  I  wis, 

Silver'd  o'er;   and  so  was  this. 

Take  what  wife  you  will  to  bed,  70 

I  will  ever  be  your  head : 

So  be  gone :  you  are  sped. 

Still  more  fool  I  shall  appear 

By  the  time  I  linger  here : 

With  one  fool's  head  I  came  to  woo, 

But  I  go  away  with  two. 

Sweet,  adieu.     I  '11  keep  my  oath, 

Patiently  to  bear  my  wroth. 

[Exeunt  Arragon  and  train. 
Por.  Thus  hath  the  candle  singed  the  moth. 

O,  these  deliberate  fools !   when  they  do  choose,    80 
They  have  the  wisdom  by  their  wit  to  lose. 
Ner.  The  ancient  saying  is  no  heresy, 

Hanging  and  wiving  goes  by  destiny. 

67 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  Come,  draw  the  curtain,  Nerissa. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  Where  is  my  lady? 

Por.  Here :  what  would  my  lord  ? 

Serv.  Madam,  there  is  alighted  at  your  gate 
A  young  Venetian,  one  that  comes  before 
To  signify  the  approaching  of  his  lord ; 
From  whom  he  bringeth  sensible  regreets, 
To  wit,  besides  commends  and  courteous  breath,    90 
Gifts  of  rich  value.     Yet  I  have  not  seen 
So  likely  an  ambassador  of  love : 
A  day  in  April  never  came  so  sweet, 
To  show  how  costly  summer  was  at  hand, 
As  this  fore-spurrer  comes  before  his  lord. 

Por.  No  more,  I  pray  thee :   I  am  half  afeard 
Thou  wilt  say  anon  he  is  some  kin  to  thee, 
Thou  spend'st  such  high-day  wit  in  praising  him, 
Come,  come,  Nerissa ;   for  I  long  to  see 
Quick  Cupid's  post  that  comes  so  mannerly.  100 

Ner.  Bassanio,  lord  Love,  if  thy  will  it  be!         [Exeunt. 

ACT  THIRD. 

Scene  I. 

Venice.     A  street. 
Enter  Salanio  and  Salarino. 

Salan.  Now,  what  news  on  the  Rialto  ? 

Salar.  Why,  yet  it  lives  there  unchecked,  that 
Antonio  hath  a  ship  of  rich  lading  wrecked 
on   the  narrow   seas;    the   Goodwins,    I   think 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

they  call  the  place;  a  very  dangerous  flat  and 
fatal,  where  the  carcases  of  many  a  tall  ship  lie 
buried,  as  they  say,  if  my  gossip  Report  be  an 
honest  woman  of  her  word. 

Salan.  I  would  she  were  as  lying  a  gossip  in  that  as 

ever  knapped  ginger,  or  made  her  neighbours  10 
believe  she  wept  for  the  death  of  a  third  hus- 
band. But  it  is  true,  without  any  slips  of  pro- 
lixity, or  crossing  the  plain  highway  of  talk, 
that  the  good  Antonio,  the  honest  Antonio, — 
O  that  I  had  a  title  good  enough  to  keep  his 
name  company! — 

Salar.  Come,  the  full  stop. 

Salan.  Ha!  what  sayest  thou?  Why,  the  end  is, 
he  hath  lost  a  ship. 

Salar.  I    would    it    might    prove    the    end    of    his     20 
losses. 

Salan.  Let  me  say  '  amen  '  betimes,  lest  the  devil 
cross  my  prayer,  for  here  he  comes  in  the  like- 
ness of  a  Jew. 

Enter  Shylock. 

How  now,  Shylock !  what  news  among  the  mer- 
chants ? 

Shy.  You  knew,  none  so  well,  none  so  well  as  you, 
of  my  daughter's  flight. 

Salar.  That's   certain:    I,   for   my  part,   knew  the 

tailor  that  made  the  wings  she  flew  withal.  30 

Salan.  And  Shylock,  for  his  own  part,  knew  the  bird 
was  fledged ;  and  then  it  is  the  complexion  of 
them  all  to  leave  the  dam. 

Shy.  She  is  damned  for  it. 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Salar.  That 's  certain,  if  the  devil  may  be  her  judge. 

Shy.  My  own  flesh  and  blood  to  rebel! 

Salan.  Out  upon  it,  old  carrion!    rebels  it  at  these 
years  ? 

Shy.  I  say,  my  daughter  is  my  flesh  and  blood. 

Salar.  There  is  more  difference  between  thy  flesh  and     40 
hers  than  between  jet  and  ivory;   more  between 
your  bloods  than  there  is  between  red  wine  and 
rhenish.     But  tell  us,  do  you  hear  whether  An- 
tonio have  had  any  loss  at  sea  or  no? 

Shy.  There  I  have  another  bad  match :  a  bankrupt, 
a  prodigal,  who  dare  scarce  show  his  head  on  the 
Rialto;  a  beggar,  that  was  used  to  come  so 
smug  upon  the  mart ;  let  him  look  to  his  bond : 
he  was  wont  to  call  me  usurer ;  let  him  look  to 
his  bond :  he  was  wont  to  lend  money  for  a  50 
Christian  courtesy :  let  him  look  to  his  bond. 

Salar.  Why,  I  am  sure,  if  he  forfeit,  thou  wilt  not 
take  his  flesh :   what 's  that  good  for  ? 

Shy.  To  bait  fish  withal :  if  it  will  feed  nothing  else, 
it  will  feed  my  revenge.  He  hath  disgraced  me, 
and  hindered  me  half  a  million ;  laughed  at  my 
losses,  mocked  at  my  gains,  scorned  my  nation, 
thwarted  my  bargains,  cooled  my  friends,  heated 
mine  enemies ;  and  what 's  his  reason  ?  I  am  a 
Jew.  Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes?  hath  not  a  Jew  60 
hands,  organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affections, 
passions  ?  fed  with  the  same  food,  hurt  with  the 
same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same  diseases, 
healed  by  the  same  means,  warmed  and  cooled 
by  the  same  winter  and  summer,  as  a  Christian 
is?  If  you  prick  us,  do  we  not  bleed?  if  you 
70 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

tickle  us,  do  we  not  laugh  ?  if  you  poison  us,  do 
we  not  die  ?  and  if  you  wrong  us,  shall  we  not 
revenge?  if  we  are  like  you  in  the  rest,  we  will 
resemble  you  in  that.  If  a  Jew  wrong  a  Chris-  70 
tian,  what  is  his  humility?  Revenge.  If  a 
Christian  wrong  a  Jew,  what  should  his  suffer- 
ance be  by  Christian  example?  Why,  revenge. 
The  villany  you  teach  me,  I  will  execute ;  and  it 
shall  go  hard  but  I  will  better  the  instruction. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  Gentlemen,  my  master  Antonio  is  at  his  house, 

and  desires  to  speak  with  you  both. 
Salar.  We  have  been  up  and  down  to  seek  him. 

Enter  Tubal. 

Salan.  Here  comes  another  of  the  tribe :  a  third 
cannot  be  matched,  unless  the  devil  himself  turn 
Jew.  80 

[Exeunt  Salan.,  Salar.  and  Servant. 

Shy.  How  now,  Tubal !  what  news  from  Genoa  ? 
hast  thou  found  my  daughter  ? 

Tub.  I  often  came  where  I  did  hear  of  her,  but  can- 
not find  her. 

Shy.  Why,  there,  there,  there,  there !  a  diamond 
gone,  cost  me  two  thousand  ducats  in  Frank- 
fort! The  curse  never  fell  upon  our  nation 
till  now ;  I  never  felt  it  till  now :  two 
thousand  ducats  in  that ;  and  other  precious, 
precious  jewels.  I  would  my  daughter  were  90 
dead  at  my  foot,  and  the  jewels  in  her  ear! 
would  she  were  hearsed  at  my  foot,  and  the 
ducats  in  her  coffin  !  No  news  of  them  ?  Why, 
so: — and    I    know    not    what's    spent    in    the 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

search :  why,  thou  loss  upon  loss !  the  thief  gone 

with  so  much,  and  so  much  to  find  the  thief; 

and  no  satisfaction,  no  revenge :   nor  no  ill  luck 

stirring  but  what  lights  on  my  shoulders;    no 

sighs  but  of  my  breathing;   no  tears  but  of  my 

shedding. 
Tub.  Yes,  other  men  have  ill  luck  too :  Antonio,  as  I  ioo 

heard  in  Genoa, — 
Shy.  What,  what,  what?  ill  luck,  ill  luck? 
Tub.  Hath  an  argosy  cast  away,  coming  from  Trip- 
oli s. 
Shy.  I  thank  God,   I  thank  God!     Is 't  true,   is^ 

true? 
Tub.  I  spoke  with  some  of  the  sailors  that  escaped 

the  wreck. 
Shy.  I  thank  thee,  good  Tubal:    good  news,  good 

news  !   ha,  ha !   where  ?   in  Genoa  ? 
Tub.  Your  daughter  spent  in  Genoa,  as  I  heard,  in 

one  night  fourscore  ducats.  no 

Shy.  Thou  stick'st  a  dagger  in  me :  I  shall  never  see 

my  gold  again:    fourscore  ducats  at  a  sitting! 

fourscore  ducats ! 
Tub.  There  came  divers  of  Antonio's  creditors  in  my 

company    to    Venice,    that    swear    he    cannot 

choose  but  break. 
Shy.  I  am  very  glad  of  it :    I  '11  plague  him :    I  '11 

torture  him :   I  am  glad  of  it. 
Tub.  One  of  them  showed  me  a  ring  that  he  had  of 

your  daughter  for  a  monkey.  120 

Shy.  Out  upon  her !     Thou  torturest  me,  Tubal :   it 

was  my  turquoise ;   I  had  it  of  Leah  when  I  was 

a  bachelor:    I  would  not  have  given  it  for  a 

wilderness  of  monkeys. 
Tub.  But  Antonio  is  certainly  undone. 

72 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Shy.  Nay,  that 's  true,  that 's  very  true.  Go,  Tubal, 
fee  me  an  officer;  bespeak  him  a  fortnight  be- 
fore. I  will  have  the  heart  of  him,  if  he  forfeit ; 
for,  were  he  out  of  Venice,  I  can  make  what 
merchandise  I  will.  Go,  go,  Tubal,  and  meet  130 
me  at  our  synagogue ;  go,  good  Tubal ;  at  our 
synagogue,  Tubal.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Belmont.     A  room  in  Portia's  house. 

Enter  Bassanio,  Portia,  Gratiano,  Nerissa,  and  Attend- 
ants. 

Por.  I  pray  you,  tarry :  pause  a  day  or  two 

Before  you  hazard ;   for,  in  choosing  wrong, 

I  lose  your  company :  therefore  forbear  awhile. 

There  's  something  tells  me,  but  it  is  not  love, 

I  would  not  lose  you ;   and  you  know  yourself, 

Hate  counsels  not  in  such  a  quality. 

But  lest  you  should  not  understand  me  well, — 

And  yet  a  maiden  hath  no  tongue  but  thought, — 

I  would  detain  you  here  some  month  or  two 

Before  you  venture  for  me.     I  could  teach  you      10 

How  to  choose  right,  but  I  am  then  forsworn ; 

So  will  I  never  be :   so  may  you  miss  me ; 

But  if  you  do,  you  '11  make  me  wish  a  sin, 

That  I  had  been  forsworn.     Beshrew  your  eyes, 

They  have  o'er-look'd  me,  and  divided  me ; 

One  half  of  me  is  yours,  the  other  half  yours, 

Mine  own,  I  would  say;   but  if  mine,  then  yours, 

And  so  all  yours !     O,  these  naughty  times 

Put  bars  between  the  owners  and  their  rights ! 

And  so,  though  yours,  not  yours.     Prove  it  so,      20 

73 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Let  fortune  go  to  hell  for  it,  not  I. 

I  speak  too  long ;   but  'tis  to  peize  the  time, 

To  eke  it  and  to  draw  it  out  in  length, 

To  stay  you  from  election. 
Bass.  Let  me  choose ; 

For  as  I  am,  I  live  upon  the  rack. 
Por.  Upon  the  rack,  Bassanio!   then  confess 

What  treason  there  is  mingled  with  your  love. 
Bass.  None  but  that  ugly  treason  of  mistrust, 

Which  makes  me  fear  the  enjoying  of  my  love: 

There  may  as  well  be  amity  and  life  30 

'Tween  snow  and  fire,  as  treason  and  my  love. 
For.  Ay,  but  I  fear  you  speak  upon  the  rack, 

Where  men  enforced  do  speak  any  thing. 
Bass.  Promise  me  life,  and  I  '11  confess  the  truth. 
Por.  Well  then,  confess  and  live. 
Bass.  '  Confess,'  and  '  love/ 

Had  been  the  very  sum  of  my  confession : 

O  happy  torment,  when  my  torturer 

Doth  teach  me  answers  for  deliverance ! 

But  let  me  to  my  fortune  and  the  caskets. 
Por.  Away,  then  !     I  am  lock'd  in  one  of  them  :  40 

If  you  do  love  me,  you  will  find  me  out. 

Nerissa  and  the  rest,  stand  all  aloof. 

Let  music  sound  while  he  doth  make  his  choice ; 

Then,  if  he  lose,  he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 

Fading  in  music :  that  the  comparison 

May    stand    more    proper,    my    eye    shall    be    the 
stream, 

And  watery  death-bed  for  him.     He  may  win ; 

And  what  is  music  then  ?     Then  music  is 

Even  as  the  flourish  when  true  subjects  bow 

74 


OF  VENICE  Act  HI.  Sc.  ii. 

To  a  new-crowned  monarch :   such  it  is  50 

As  are  those  dulcet  sounds  in  break  of  day 
That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear, 
And  summon  him  to  marriage.     Now  he  goes, 
With  no  less  presence,  but  with  much  more  love, 
Than  young  Alcides,  when  he  did  redeem 
The  virgin  tribute  paid  by  howling  Troy 
To  the  sea-monster:   I  stand  for  sacrifice; 
The  rest  aloof  are  the  Dardanian  wives, 
With  bleared  visages,  come  forth  to  view 
The  issue  of  the  exploit.     Go,  Hercules !  60 

Live  thou,  I  live :   with  much  much  more  dismay 
I  view  the  fight  than  thou  that  makest  the  fray. 

Music,  whilst  Bassanio  comments  on  the  caskets  to  him- 
self. 

Song. 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ?     • 

Reply,  reply. 
It  is  engender'd  in  the  eyes, 
With  gazing  fed ;  and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  where  it  lies. 

Let  us  all  ring  fancy's  knell ;  70 

I  '11  begin  it, — Ding,  dong,  bell. 
All.  Ding,  dong,  bell. 

Bass.  So  may  the  outward  shows  be  least  themselves : 
The  world  is  still  deceived  with  ornament. 
In  law,  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt, 
But,  being  season'd  with  a  gracious  voice, 
Obscures  the  show  of  evil?     In  religion, 
What  damned  error,  but  some  sober  br6w 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Will  bless  it,  and  approve  it  with  a  text, 
Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament?  80 

There  is  no  vice  so  simple,  but  assumes 
Some  mark  of  virtue  on  his  outward  parts : 
How  many  cowards,  whose  hearts  are  all  as  false 
As  stairs  of  sand,  wear  yet  upon  their  chins 
The  beards  of  Hercules  and  frowning  Mars ; 
Who,  inward  search'd,  have  livers  white  as  milk; 
And  these  assume  but  valour's  excrement 
To  render  them  redoubted !     Look  on  beauty, 
And  you  shall  see  'tis  purchased  by  the  weight  ; 
Which  therein  works  a  miracle  in  nature,  90 

Making  them  lightest  that  wear  most  of  it : 
So  are  those  crisped  snaky  golden  locks 
Which  make  such  wanton  gambols  with  the  wind, 
Upon  supposed  fairness,  often  known 
To  be  the  dowry  of  a  second  head, 
The  skull  that  bred  them  in  the  sepulchre. 
Thus  ornament  is  but  the  guiled  shore 
To  a  most  dangerous  sea;   the  beauteous  scarf 
Veiling  an  Indian  beauty ;   in  a  word, 
The  seeming  truth  which  cunning  times  put  on     100 
To  entrap  the  wisest.     Therefore,  thou  gaudy  gold, 
Hard  food  for  Midas,  I  will  none  of  thee : 
Nor  none  of  thee,  thou  pale  and  common  drudge 
'Tween  man  and  man :  but  thou,  thou  meagre  lead, 
Which  rather  threatenest  than  dost  promise  aught, 
Thy  paleness  moves  me  more  than  eloquence; 
And  here  choose  I :  joy  be  the  consequence ! 
For.    [Aside]   How  all  the  other  passions  fleet  to  air, 
As  doubtful  thoughts,  and  rash-embraced  despair, 
And  shuddering  fear,  and  green-eyed  jealousy!     no 
76 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

0  love,  be  moderate ;  allay  thy  ecstasy ; 

In  measure  rain  thy  joy ;   scant  this  excess ! 

1  feel  too  much  thy  blessing :   make  it  less, 
For  fear  I  surfeit! 

Bass.  What  find  I  here  ? 

->•    [Opening  the  leaden  casket. 
Fair  Portia's  counterfeit!     What  demi-god 
Hath  come  so  near  creation  ?     Move  these  eyes  ? 
Or  whether,  riding  on  the  balls  of  mine, 
Seem  they  in  motion?     Here  are  sever'd  lips, 
Parted  with  sugar  breath :    so  sweet  a  bar 
Should    sunder   such    sweet    friends.     Here    in    her 

hairs 
The  painter  plays  the  spider,  and  hath  woven      121 
A  golden  mesh  to  entrap  the  hearts  of  men, 
Faster  than  gnats  in  cobwebs :  but  her  eyes, — 
How  could  he  see  to  do  them  ?  having  made  one, 
Methinks  it  should  have  power  to  steal  both  his 
And  leave  itself  unfurnish'd.     Yet  look,  how  far 
The  substance  of  my  praise  doth  wrong  this  shadow 
In  underprizing  it,  so  far  this  shadow 
Doth  limp  behind  the  substance.     Here  's  the  scroll, 
The  continent  and  summary  of  my  fortune.  130 

[Reads]  You  that  choose  not  by  the  view, 

Chance  as  fair,  and  choose  as  true ! 

Since  this  fortune  falls  to  you, 

Be  content  and  seek  no  new. 

If  you  be  well  pleased  with  this, 

And  hold  your  fortune  for  your  bliss, 

Turn  you  where  your  lady  is, 

And  claim  her  with  a  loving  kiss. 
A  gentle  scroll.     Fair  lady,  by  your  leave ; 
I  come  by  note,  to  give  and  to  receive.  140 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Like  one  of  two  contending  in  a  prize, 
That  thinks  he  hath  done  well  in  people's  eyes, 
Hearing  applause  and  universal  shout, 
Giddy  in  spirit,  still  gazing  in  a  doubt 
Whether  those  peals  of  praise  be  his  or  no; 
So,  thrice-fair  lady,  stand  I,  even  so ; 
As  doubtful  whether  what  I  see  be  true, 
Until  confirm'd,  sign'd,  ratified  by  you. 
Per.  You  see  me,  Lord  Bassanio,  where  I  stand, 

Such  as  I  am:  though  for  myself  alone  150 

I  would  not  be  ambitious  in  my  wish, 
To  wish  myself  much  better ;  yet,  for  you 
I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself; 
A  thousand  times  more  fair,  ten  thousand  times 
More  rich; 

That  only  to  stand  high  in  your  account, 
I  might  in  virtues,  beauties,  livings,  friends, 
.   Exceed  account ;   but  the  full  sum  of  me 
Is  sum  of  something,  which,  to  term  in  gross, 
Is  an  unlesson'd  girl,  unschool'd,  unpractised ;      160 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn ;  happier  than  this, 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn ; 
Happiest  of  all  is  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  yours  to  be  directed, 
As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  her  king. 
Myself  and  what  is  mine  to  you  and  yours 
Is  now  converted :  but  now  I  was  the  lord 
Of  this  fair  mansion,  master  of  my  servants, 
Queen  o'er  myself;  and  even  now,  but  now,  170 

•  This  house,  these  servants,  and  this  same  myself, 
Are  yours,  my  lord :   I  give  them  with  this  ring ; 

78 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Which  when  you  part  from,  lose,  or  give  away, 
Let  it  presage  the  ruin  of  your  love, 
And  be  my  vantage  to  exclaim  on  you. 

Bass.  Madam,  you  have  bereft  me  of  all  words, 
Only  my  blood  speaks  to  you  in  my  veins; 
And  there  is  such  confusion  in  my  powers, 
As,  after  some  oration  fairly  spoke 
By  a  beloved  prince,  there  doth  appear  180 

Among  the  buzzing  pleased  multitude  ; 
Where  every  something,  being  blent  together, 
Turns  to  a  wild  of  nothing,  save  of  joy, 
Express'd  and  not  express'd.     But  when  this  ring 
Parts  from  this  finger,  then  parts  life  from  hence : 
O,  then  be  bold  to  say  Bassanio's  dead ! 

Ner.  My  lord  and  lady,  it  is  now  our  time, 

That  have  stood  by  and  seen  our  wishes  prosper, 
To  cry,  good  joy :  good  joy,  my  lord  and  lady ! 

Gra.  My  lord  Bassanio  and  my  gentle  lady,  190 

I  wish  you  all  the  joy  that  you  can  wish ; 
For  I  am  sure  you  can  wish  none  from  me : 
And  when  your  honours  mean  to  solemnize 
The  bargain  of  your  faith,  I  do  beseech  you, 
Even  at  that  time  I  may  be  married  too. 

Bass.  With  all  my  heart,  so  thou  canst  get  a  wife. 

Gra.  I  thank  your  lordship,  you  have  got  me  one. 
My  eyes,  my  lord,  can  look  as  swift  as  yours : 
You  saw  the  mistress,  I  beheld  the  maid ; 
You  loved,  I  loved  for  intermission.  200 

No  more  pertains  to  me,  my  lord,  than  you. 
Your  fortune  stood  upon  the  casket  there, 
And  so  did  mine  too,  as  the  matter  falls ; 
For  wooing  here  until  I  sweat  again, 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

And  swearing  till  my  very  roof  was  dry 
With  oaths  of  love,  at  last,  if  promise  last, 
I  got  a  promise  of  this  fair  one  here 
To  have  her  love,  provided  that  your  fortune 
Achieved  her  mistress. 

Por.  Is  this  true,  Nerissa? 

Ner.  Madam,  it  is,  so  you  stand  pleased  withal.  210 

Bass.  And  do  you,  Gratiano,  mean  good  faith  ? 

Gra.  Yes,  faith,  my  lord. 

Bass.  Our  feast  shall  be  much  honoured  in  your  mar- 
riage. 

Gra.  We  '11  play  with  them  the  first  boy  for  a  thou- 
sand ducats. 

Ner.  What,  and  stake  down? 

Gra.  No ;  we  shall  ne'er  win  at  that  sport,  and  stake 
down. 

But  who  comes  here  ?     Lorenzo  and  his  infidel  ? 
What,  and  my  old  Venetian  friend  Salerio?        220 

Enter  Lorenzo,  Jessica,  and  Salerio,  a  Messenger  from 

Venice. 

Bass.  Lorenzo  and  Salerio,  welcome  hither ; 

If  that  the  youth  of  my  new  interest  here 

Have  power  to  bid  you  welcome.     By  your  leave, 

I  bid  my  very  friends  and  countrymen, 

Sweet  Portia,  welcome. 
Por.  So  do  I,  my  lord : 

They  are  entirely  welcome. 
Lor.  I  thank  your  honour.     For  my  part,  my  lord, 

My  purpose  was  not  to  have  seen  you  here ; 

But  meeting  with  Salerio  by  the  way, 

He  did  entreat  me,  past  all  saying  nay,  230 

To  come  with  him  along. 
Saler.  I  did,  my  lord  ; 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

And  I  have  reason  for  it.     Signior  Antonio 
Commends  him  to  you.  [Gives  Bassanio  a  letter, 

Bass.  Ere  I  ope  this  letter, 

I  pray  you,  tell  me  how  my  good  friend  doth. 

Safer.  Not  sick,  my  lord,  unless  it  be  in  mind ; 
Nor  well,  unless  in  mind :  his  letter  there 
Will  show  you  his  estate. 

Gra.  Nerissa,  cheer  yon  stranger ;  bid  her  welcome. 

Your  hand,  Salerio :  what 's  the  news  from  Venice  ? 
How  doth  that  royal  merchant,  good  Antonio  ?     240 
I  know  he  will  be  glad  of  our  success ; 
We  are  the  Jasons,  we  have  won  the  fleece. 

Saler.  I  would  you  had  won  the  fleece  that  he  hath  lost. 

Por.  There  are  some  shrewd  contents  in  yon  same  paper, 
That  steals  the  colour  from  Bassanio's  cheek: 
Some  dear  friend  dead ;  else  nothing  in  the  world 
Could  turn  so  much  the  constitution 
Of  any  constant  man.     What,  worse  and  worse ! 
With  leave,  Bassanio;   I  am  half  yourself, 
And  I  must  freely  have  the  half  of  anything         250 
That  this  same  paper  brings  you. 

Bass.  O  sweet  Portia, 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  unpleasant'st  words 
That  ever  blotted  paper !     Gentle  lady, 
When  I  did  first  impart  my  love  to  you, 
I  freely  told  you,  all  the  wealth  I  had 
Ran  in  my  veins,  I  was  a  gentleman ; 
And  then  I  told  you  true :  and  yet,  dear  lady, 
Rating  myself  at  nothing,  you  shall  see 
How  much  I  was  a  braggart.     When  I  told  you 
My  state  was  nothing,  I  should  then  have  told  you 
That  I  was  worse  than  nothing ;  for,  indeed,         261 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  THE  MERCHANT 

I  have  engaged  myself  to  a  dear  friend, 

Engaged  my  friend  to  his  mere  enemy, 

To  feed  my  means'.     Here  is  a  letter,  lady ; 

The  paper  as  the  body  of  my  friend, 

And  every  word  in  it  a  gaping  wound, 

Issuing  life-blood.     But  is  it  true,  Salerio? 

Have  all  his  ventures  f ail'd  ?     What,  not  one  hit  ? 

From  Tripolis,  from  Mexico,  and  England, 

From  Lisbon,  Barbary,  and  India?  270 

And  not  one  vessel  scape  the  dreaful  touch 

Of  merchant-marring  rocks? 

Salar.  Not  one,  my  lord. 

Besides,  it  should  appear,  that  if  he  had 
The  present  money  to  discharge  the  Jew, 
He  would  not  take  it.     Never  did  I  know 
A  creature,  that  did  bear  the  shape  of  man, 
So  keen  and  greedy  to  confound  a  man : 
He  plies  the  Duke  at  morning  and  at  night ; 
And  doth  impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state, 
If  they  deny  him  justice  :   twenty  merchants,         280 
The  Duke  himself,  and  the  magnificoes 
Of  greatest  port,  have  all  persuaded  with  him ;  • 
•    But  none  can  drive  him  from  the  envious  plea 
Of  forfeiture,  of  justice,  and  his  bond. 

Jcs.  When  I  was  with  him  I  have  heard  him  swear 
To  Tubal  and  to  Chus,  his  countrymen, 
That  he  would  rather  have  Antonio's  flesh 
Than  twenty  times  the  value  of  the  sum 
That  he  did  owe  him :   and  I  know,  my  lord, 
If  law,  authority  and  power  deny  not,  290 

It  will  go  hard  with  poor  Antonio. 

Por.  Is  it  your  dear  friend  that  is  thus  in  trouble? 

82 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Bass.  The  dearest  friend  to  me,  the  kindest  man, 
The  best-condition'd  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies;   and  one  in  whom 
The  ancient  Roman  honour  more  appears 
Than  any  that  draws  breath  in  Italy. 

Por.  What  sum  owes  he  the  Jew? 

Bass.  For  me  three  thousand  ducats. 

Por.  What,  no  more  ? 

Pay  him  six  thousand,  and  deface  the  bond ;  300 

Double  six  thousand,  and  then  treble  that, 

Before  a  friend  of  this  description 

Shall  lose  a  hair  through  Bassanio's  fault. 

First  go  with  me  to  church  and  call  me  wife, 

And  then  away  to  Venice  to  your  friend ; 

For  never  shall  you  lie  by  Portia's  side 

With  an  unquiet  soul.     You  shall  have  gold 

To  pay  the  petty  debt  twenty  times  over : 

When  it  is  paid,  bring  your  true  friend  along. 

My  maid  Xerissa  and  myself  meantime  310 

Will  live  as  maids  and  widows.     Come,  away! 

For  you  shall  hence  upon  your  wedding-day : 

Bid  your  iriends  welcome,  show  a  merry  cheer : 

Since  you  are  dear  bought,  I  will  love  you  dear. 

But  let  me  hear  the  letter  of  your  friend. 

Bass.  [Reads]  Sweet  Bassanio,  my  ships  have  all 
miscarried,  my  creditors  grow  cruel,  my  estate 
is  very  low,  my  bond  to  the  Jew  is  forfeit ;  and 
since  in  paying  it,  it  is  impossible  I  should  live, 
all  debts  are  cleared  between  you  and  I,  if  I 
might  but  see  you  at  my  death.  Not  withstand-  320 
ing,  use  your  pleasure :  if  your  love  do  not  per- 
suade you  to  come,  let  not  my  letter. 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iii.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  O  love,  dispatch  all  business,  and  be  gone ! 
Bass.  Since  I  have  your  good  leave  to  go  away, 

I  will  make  haste :  but,  till  I  come  again, 
No  bed  shall  e'er  be  guilty  of  my  stay, 

No  rest  be  interposer  'twixt  us  twain.       [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

Venice.    A  street. 
Enter  Shy  lock,  Salarino,  Antonio,  and  Gaoler. 

Shy.  Gaoler,  look  to  him :  tell  not  me  of  mercy ; 
This  is  the  fool  that  lent  out  money  gratis : 
Gaoler,  look  to  him. 

Ant.  Hear  me  yet,  good  Shylock. 

Shy.  I  '11  have  my  bond ;  speak  not  against  my  bond : 
I  have  sworn  an  oath  that  I  will  have  my  bond. 
Thou  call'dst  me  dog  before  thou  hadst  a  cause ; 
But,  since  I  am  a  dog,  beware  my  fangs : 
The  Duke  shall  grant  me  justice.     I  do  wonder, 
Thou  naughty  gaoler,  that  thou  art  so  fond 
To  come  abroad  with  him  at  his  request.  io 

Ant.  I  pray  thee,  hear  me  speak. 

Shy.  I  '11  have  my  bond ;  I  will  not  hear  thee  speak : 
I  '11  have  my  bond ;  and  therefore  speak  no  more. 
I  '11  not  be  made  a  soft  and  dull-eyed  fool, 
To  shake  the  head,  relent,  and  sigh,  and  yield 
To  Christian  intercessors.     Follow  not ; 
I  '11  have  no  speaking :   I  will  have  my  bond.     [Exit. 

Salar.  It  is  the  most  impenetrable  cur 
That  ever  kept  with  men. 

Ant.  Let  him  alone : 

I  '11  follow  him  no  more  with  bootless  prayers.      20 

84 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

He  seeks  my  life ;    his  reason  well  I  know ; 
I  oft  deliver'd  from  his  forfeitures 
Many  that  have  at  times  made  moan  to  me; 
Therefore  he  hates  me. 

Salar.  I  am  sure  the  Duke 

Will  never  grant  this  forfeiture  to  hold. 

Ant.  The  Duke  cannot  deny  the  course  of  law : 
For  the  commodity  that  strangers  have 
With  us  in  Venice,  if  it  be  denied, 
Will  much  impeach  the  justice  of  his  state; 
Since  that  the  trade  and  profit  of  the  city  30 

Consisteth  of  all  nations.     Therefore,  go : 
Those  griefs  and  losses  have  so  bated  me, 
That  I  shall  hardly  spare  a  pound  of  flesh 
To-morrow  to  my  bloody  creditor. 
Well,  gaoler,  on.     Pray  God,  Bassanio  come 
To  see  me  pay  his  debt,  and  then  I  care  not ! 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV. 

Belmont.     A  room  in  Portia  s  house. 

Enter  Portia,  Nerissa,  Lorenzo,  Jessica,  and  Balthasar. 

Lor.  Madam,  although  I  speak  it  in  your  presence, 
You  have  a  noble  and  a  true  conceit 
Of  god-like  amity;    which  appears  most  strongly 
In  bearing  thus  the  absence  of  your  lord. 
But  if  you  knew  to  whom  you  show  this  honour, 
How  true  a  gentleman  you  send  relief, 
How  dear  a  lover  of  my  lord  your  husband, 
I  know  you  would  be  prouder  of  the  work 
Than  customary  bounty  can  enforce  you. 

85 


Act  HI.  Sc.  iv.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  I  never  did  repent  for  doing  good,  10 

Nor  shall  not  now :   for  in  companions 

That  do  converse  and  waste  the  time  together, 

Whose  souls  do  bear  an  equal  yoke  of  love, 

There  must  be  needs  a  like  proportion 

Of  lineaments,  of  manners  and  of  spirit; 

Which  makes  me  think  that  this  Antonio, 

Being  the  bosom  lover  of  my  lord, 

Must  needs  be  like  my  lord.     If  it  be  so, 

How  little  is  the  cost  I  have  bestow'd 

In  purchasing  the  semblance  of  my  soul  20 

From  out  the  state  of  hellish  misery! 

This  comes  too  near  the  praising  of  myself ; 

Therefore  no  more  of  it :   hear  other  things. 

Lorenzo,  I  commit  into  your  hands 

The  husbandry  and  manage  of  my  house 

Until  my  lord's  return :   for  mine  own  part, 

I  have  toward  heaven  breathed  a  secret  vow 

To  live  in  prayer  and  contemplation, 

Only  attended  by  Nerissa  here, 

Until  her  husband  and  my  lord's  return:  30 

There  is  a  monastery  two  miles  off ; 

And  there  will  we  abide.     I  do  desire  you 

Not  to  deny  this  imposition ; 

The  which  my  love  and  some  necessity 

Now  lays  upon  you. 
Lor.  Madam,  with  all  my  heart ; 

I  shall  obey  you  in  all  fair  commands. 
Por.  My  people  do  already  know  my  mind, 

And  will  acknowledge  you  and  Jessica 

In  place  of  Lord  Bassanio  and  myself. 

And  so  farewell,  till  we  shall  meet  again.  40 

86 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Lor.  Fair  thoughts  and  happy  hours  attend  on  you ! 

Jes.  I  wish  your  ladyship  all  heart's  content. 

Por.  I  thank  you  for  your  wish,  and  am  well  pleased 
To  wish  it  back  on  you :   fare  you  well,  Jessica. 

[Exeunt  Jessica  and  Lorenzo. 
Now,  Balthasar, 

As  I  have  ever  found  thee  honest-true, 
So  let  me  find  thee  still.     Take  this  same  letter, 
And  use  thou  all  the  endeavour  of  a  man 
In  speed  to  Padua :  see  thou  render  this 
Into  my  cousin's  hand,  Doctor  Bellario ;  50 

And,  look,  what  notes  and  garments  he  doth  give 

thee, 
Bring  them,  I  pray  thee,  with  imagined  speed 
Unto  the  tranect,  to  the  common  ferry 
Which  trades  to  Venice.     Waste  no  time  in  words, 
But  get  thee  gone :   I  shall  be  there  before  thee. 

Balth.  Madam,  I  go  with  all  convenient  speed.       [Exit. 

Por.  Come  on,  Nerissa ;   I  have  work  in  hand 

That  you  yet  know  not  of ;  we  '11  see  our  husbands 
Before  they  think  of  us. 

Ner.  Shall  they  see  us? 

Por.  They  shall,  Nerissa;   but  in  such  a  habit,  60 

That  they  shall  think  we  are  accomplished 
With  that  we  lack.     I  '11  hold  thee  any  wager, 
When  we  are  both  accoutred  like  young  men, 
I  '11  prove  the  prettier  fellow  of  the  two, 
And  wear  my  dagger  with  a  braver  grace, 
And  speak  between  the  change  of  man  and  boy 
With  a  reed  voice,  and  turn  two  mincing  steps 
Into  a  manly  stride,  and  speak  of  frays 
Like  a  fine  bragging  youth ;   and  tell  quaint  lies, 
How  honourable  ladies  sought  my  love,  70 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  v.  THE  MERCHANT 

Which  I  denying,  they  fell  sick  and  died; 

I  could  not  do  withal :   then  I  '11  repent, 

And  wish,  for  all  that,  that  I  had  not  kill'd  them  ; 

And  twenty  of  these  puny  lies  I  '11  tell, 

That  men  shall  swear  I  have  discontinued  school 

Above  a  twelvemonth.     I  have  within  my  mind 

A  thousand  raw  tricks  of  these  bragging  Jacks, 

Which  I  will  practise. 

Ner.  Why,  shall  we  turn  to  men? 

Por.  Fie,  what  a  question  's  that, 

If  thou  wert  near  a  lewd  interpreter !  80 

But  come,  I  '11  tell  thee  all  my  whole  device 

When  I  am  in  my  coach,  which  stays  for  us 

At  the  park-gate ;   and  therefore  haste  away, 

For  we  must  measure  twenty  miles  to-day.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  V. 

The  same.     A  garden. 

Enter  Launcelot  and  Jessica. 

Laun.  Yes,  truly ;  for,  look  you,  the  sins  of  the 
father  are  to  be  laid  upon  the  children :  there- 
fore, I  promise  ye,  I. fear  you.  I  was  always 
plain  with  you,  and  so  now  I  speak  my  agitation 
of  the  matter :  therefore  be  of  good  cheer ;  for, 
truly,  I  think  you  are  damned.  There  is  but 
one  hope  in  it  that  can  do  you  any  good:  and 
that  is  but  a  kind  of  bastard  hope  neither. 
Jes.  And  what  hope  is  that,  I  pray  thee?  10 

Laun.  Marry,  you  may  partly  hope  that  your  father 
got  you  not,  that  you  are  not  the  Jew's  daughter. 


OF  VENICE  Act  III.  Sc.  v. 

Jes.  That  were  a  kind  of  bastard  hope,  indeed:  so 
the  sins  ©f  my  mother  should  be  visited  upon 
me. 

Laun.  Truly  then  I  fear  you  are  damned  both  by 
father  and  mother :  thus  when  I  shun  Scylla, 
your  father,  I  fall  into  Charybdis,  your  mother : 
well,  you  are  gone  both  ways. 

Jes.  I  shall  be  saved  by  my  husband ;   he  hath  made     20 
me  a  Christian. 

Laun.  Truly,  the  more  to  blame  he :  we  were  Chris- 
tians enow  before ;  e'en  as  many  as  could  well 
live,  one  by  another.  This  making  of  Christians 
will  raise  the  price  of  hogs :  if  we  grow  all  to 
be  pork-eaters,  we  shall  not  shortly  have  a  rasher 
on  the  coals  for  money. 

Enter  Lorenzo. 

Jes.  I  '11  tell  my  husband,  Launcelot,  what  you  say: 
here  he  comes. 

Lor.  I  shall  grow  jealous  of  you  shortly,  Launcelot,     30 
if  you  thus  get  my  wife  into  corners. 

Jes.  Nay,  you  need  not  fear  us,  Lorenzo :  Launce- 
lot and  I  are  out.  He  tells  me  flatly,  there  is 
no  mercy  for  me  in  heaven,  because  I  am  a  Jew's 
daughter :  and  he  says,  you  are  no  good  member 
of  the  commonwealth ;  for,  in  converting  Jews 
to  Christians,  you  raise  the  price  of  pork. 

Lor.  I  shall  answer  that  better  to  the  commonwealth 

than   you   can   the   getting   up    of   the   negro's     40 
belly :   the  Moor  is  with  child  by  you,  Launce- 
lot. 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  v.  THE  MERCHANT 

Laun.  It  is  much  that  the  Moor  should  be  more  than 
reason :  but  if  she  be  less  than  an  honest  woman, 
she  is  indeed  more  than  I  took  her  for. 

Lor.  How  every  fool  can  play  upon  the  word!  I 
think  the  best  grace  of  wit  will  shortly  turn  into 
silence ;  and  discourse  grow  commendable  in 
none  only  but  parrots.  Go  in,  sirrah  ;  bid  them 
prepare  for  dinner.  50 

Laun.  That  is  done,  sir ;   they  have  all  stomachs. 

Lor.  Goodly  Lord,  what  a  wit-snapper  are  you !  then 
bid  them  prepare  dinner. 

Laun.  That  is  done  too,  sir ;  only  '  cover '  is  the 
word. 

Lor.  Will  you  cover,  then,  sir? 

Laun.  Not  so,  sir,  neither ;  I  know  my  duty. 

Lor.  Yet  more  quarreling  with  occasion !  Wilt 
thou  show  the  whole  wealth  of  thy  wit  in  an 
instant  ?  I  pray  thee,  understand  a  plain  man  in 
his  plain  meaning :  go  to  thy  fellows  ;  bid  them  60 
cover  the  table,  serve  in  the  meat,  and  we  will 
come  in  to  dinner. 

Laun.  For  the  table,  sir,  it  shall  be  served  in ;  for 
the  meat,  sir,  it  shall  be  covered ;  for  your  com- 
ing in  to  dinner,  sir,  why,  let  it  be  as  humours 
and  conceits  shall  govern.  [Exit. 

Lor.  O  dear  discretion,  how  his  words  are  suited! 
The  fool  hath  planted  in  his  memory 
An  army  of  good  words  ;  and  I  do  know 
A  many  fools,  that  stand  in  better  place,  70 

Garnish'd  like  him,  that  for  a  tricksy  word 
Defy  the  matter.     How  cheer'st  thou,  Jessica  ? 
And  now,  good  sweet,  say  thy  opinion, 
How  dost  thou  like  the  Lord  Bassanio's  wife? 

90 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Jes.  Past  all  expressing.     It  is  very  meet 
The  Lord  Bassanio  live  an  upright  life ; 
For,  having  such  a  blessing  in  his  lady, 
He  finds  the  joys  of  heaven  here  on  earth ; 
And  if  on  earth  he  do  not  mean  it,  then 
In  reason  he  should  never  come  to  heaven.  80 

Why,  if  two  gods  should  play  some  heavenly  match 
And  on  the  wager  lay  two  earthly  women, 
And  Portia  one,  there  must  be  something  else 
Pawn'd  with  the  other ;   for  the  poor  rude  world 
Hath  not  her  fellow. 

Lor.  Even  such  a  husband 

Hast  thou  of  me  as  she  is  for  a  wife. 

Jes.  Nay,  but  ask  my  opinion  too  of  that. 

Lor.  I  will  anon :   first,  let  us  go  to  dinner. 

Jes.  Nay,  let  me  praise  you  while  I  have  a  stomach. 

Lor.  No,  pray  thee,  let  it  serve  for  table-talk ;  90 

Then,  howsoe'er  thou  speak'st,  'mong  other  things 
I  shall  digest  it. 

Jes.  Well,  I  '11  set  you  forth.  [Exeunt. 


ACT   FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

Venice.     A  court  of  justice. 

Enter  the  Duke,  the  Magnificoes,  Antonio,  Bassanio, 
Gratiano,  Salerio,  and  others. 

Duke.  What,  is  Antonio  here  ? 

Ant.  Ready,  so  please  your  Grace. 

Duke.  I  am  sorry  for  thee:  thou  art  come  to  answer 

91 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

A  stony  adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch 
Uncapable  of  pity,  void  and  empty 
From  any  dram  of  mercy. 

Ant.  I  have  heard 

Your  Grace  hath  ta'en  great  pains  to  qualify 

His  rigorous  course ;   but  since  he  stands  obdurate, 

And  that  no  lawful  means  can  carry  me 

Out  of  his  envy's  reach,  I  do  oppose  10 

My  patience  to  his  fury ;  and  am  arm'd 

To  suffer,  with  a  quietness  of  spirit, 

The  very  tyranny  and  rage  of  his. 

Duke.  Go  one,  and  call  the  Jew  into  the  court. 

Saler.  He  is  ready  at  the  door :   he  comes,  my  lord. 

Enter  Shylock. 

Duke.  Make  room,  and  let  him  stand  before  our  face. 
Shylock,  the  world  thinks,  and  I  think  so  too, 
That  thou  but  lead'st  this  fashion  of  thy  malice 
To  the  last  hour  of  act ;  and  then  'tis  thought 
Thou  'It  show  thy  mercy  and  remorse  more  strange 
Than  is  thy  strange  apparent  cruelty;  21 

And  where  thou  now  exact'st  the  penalty, 
Which  is  a  pound  of  this  poor  merchant's  flesh, 
Thou  wilt  not  only  loose  the  forfeiture, 
But,  touch'd  with  human  gentleness  and  love, 
Forgive  a  moiety  of  the  principal ; 
Glancing  an  eye  of  pity  on  his  losses, 
That  have  of  late  so  huddled  on  his  back, 
Enow  to  press  a  royal  merchant  down, 
And  pluck  commiseration  of  his  state  30 

From  brassy  bosoms  and  rough  hearts  of  flint. 
From  stubborn  Turks  and  Tartars,  never  train'd 
92 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

To  offices  of  tender  courtesy. 

We  all  expect  a  gentle  answer,  Jew. 

Shy.  I  have  possess' d  your  Grace  of  what  I  purpose ; 
And  by  our  holy  Sabbath  have  I  sworn 
To  have  the  due  and  forfeit  of  my  bond : 
If  you  deny  it,  let  the  danger  light 
Upon  your  charter  and  your  city's  freedom. 
You  '11  ask  me,  why  I  rather  choose  to  have  40 

A  weight  of  carrion-flesh  than  to  receive 
Three  thousand  ducats :  I  '11  not  answer  that : 
But,  say,  it  is  my  humour :  is  it  answer'd  ? 
What  if  my  house  be  troubled  with  a  rat, 
And  I  be  pleased  to  give  ten  thousand  ducats 
To  have  it  baned  ?     What,  are  you  answer'd  yet  ? 
Some  men  there  are  love  not  a  gaping  pig ; 
Some,  that  are  mad  if  they  behold  a  cat ; 
And  others,  when  the  bagpipe  sings  i'  the  nose, 
Cannot  contain  their  urine:   for  affection,  50 

Mistress  of  passion,  sways  it  to  the  mood 
Of  what  it  likes  or  loathes.     Now,  for  your  answer, 
As  there  is  no  firm  reason  to  be  render'd, 
Why  he  cannot  abide  a  gaping  pig ; 
Why  he,  a  harmless  necessary  cat; 
Why  he,  a  woollen  bagpipe ;  but  of  force 
Must  yield  to  such  inevitable  shame 
As  to  offend,  himself  being  offended ; 
So  can  I  give  no  reason,  nor  I  will  not, 
More  than  a  lodged  hate  and  a  certain  loathing       60 
I  bear  Antonio,  that  I  follow  thus 
A  losing  suit  against  him.     Are  you  answer'd  ? 

Bass.  This  is  no  answer,  thou  unfeeling  man, 
To  excuse  the  current  of  thy  cruelty. 

93 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Shy.  I  am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my  answer. 

Bass.  Do  all  men  kill  the  things  they  do  not  love  ? 

Shy.  Hates  any  man  the  thing  he  would  not  kill  ? 

Bass.  Every  offence  is  not  a  hate  at  first. 

Shy.  What,  wouldst  thou  have  a  serpent  sting  thee  twice  ? 

Ant.  I  pray  you,  think  you  question  with  the  Jew:        70 
You  may  as  well  go  stand  upon  the  beach, 
And  bid  the  main  flood  bate  his  usual  height ; 
You  may  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf, 
Why  he  hath  made  the  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb ; 
You  may  as  well  forbid  the  mountain  pines 
To  wag  their  high  tops,  and  to  make  no  noise, 
When  they  are  f  retten  with  the  gusts  of  heaven  ; 
You  may  as  well  do  any  thing  most  hard, 
As  seek  to  soften  that — than  which  what 's  harder  ? — 
His  Jewish  heart :   therefore,  I  do  beseech  you,      80 
Make  no  more  offers,  use  no  further  means, 
But  with  all  brief  and  plain  conveniency 
Let  me  have  judgement  and  the  Jew  his  will. 

Bass.  For  thy  three  thousand  ducats  here  is  six. 

Shy.  If  every  ducat  in  six  thousand  ducats 
Were  in  six  parts  and  every  part  a  ducat, 
I  would  not  draw  them ;   I  would  have  my  bond. 

Duke.  How  shalt  thou  hope  for  mercy,  rendering  none? 

Shy.  What  judgement  shall  I  dread,  doing  no  wrong? 
You  have  among  you  many  a  purchased  slave,        90 
Which,  like  your  asses  and  your  dogs  and  mules, 
You  use  in  abject  and  in  slavish  parts, 
Because  you  bought  them :   shall  I  say  to  you, 
Let  them  be  free,  marry  them  to  your  heirs  ? 
Why  sweat  they  under  burthens  ?  let  their  beds 
Be  made  as  soft  as  yours,  and  let  their  palates 

94 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Be  season'd  with  such  viands?     You  will  answer 

'  The  slaves  are  ours  : '   so  do  I  answer  you  : 

The  pound  of  flesh,  which  I  demand  of  him, 

Is  dearly  bought ;   'tis  mine  and  I  will  have  it.      ioo 

If  you  deny  me,  fie  upon  your  law ! 

There  is  no  force  in  the  decrees  of  Venice. 

I  stand  for  judgement:   answer;   shall  I  have  it? 

Duke.  Upon  my  po\yer  I  may  dismiss  this  court, 
Unless  Bellario,  a  learned  doctor, 
Whom  I  have  sent  for  to  determine  this, 
Come  here  to-day. 

Saler.  My  lord,  here  stays  without 

A  messenger  with  letters  from  the  doctor, 
New  come  from  Padua. 

Duke.  Bring  us  the  letters;    call  the  messenger.  no 

Bass.  Good  cheer,  Antonio !     What,  man,  courage  yet ! 
The  Jew  shall  have  my  flesh,  blood,  bones,  and  all, 
Ere  thou  shalt  lose  for  me  one  drop  of  blood. 

Ant.    I  am  a  tainted  wether  of  the  flock, 

Meetest  for  death :   the  weakest  kind  of  fruit 
Drops  earliest  to  the  ground ;  and  so  let  me : 
You  cannot  better  be  employ'd,  Bassanio, 
Than  to  live  still,  and  write  mine  epitaph. 

Enter  Nerissa,  dressed  like  a  lawyer's  clerk. 

Duke.  Came  you  from  Padua,  from  Bellario? 

Ner.  From  both,  my  lord.     Bellario  greets  your  Grace. 

[Presenting  a  letter. 
Bass.  Why  dost  thou  whet  thy  knife  so  earnestly?      121 
Shy.  To  cut  the  forfeiture  from  that  bankrupt  there. 
Gra.  Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul,  harsh  Jew, 
Thou  makest  thy  knife  keen ;  but  no  metal  can, 

95 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

No,  not  the  hangman's  axe,  bear  half  the  keenness 
Of  thy  sharp  envy.     Can  no  prayers  pierce  thee  ? 

Shy.  No,  none  that  thou  hast  wit  enough  to  make. 

Gra.  O,  be  thou  damn'd,  inexecrable  dog! 
And  for  thy  life  let  justice  be  accused. 
Thou  almost  makest  me  waver  in  my  faith,  130 

To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 
That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 
Into  the  trunks  of  men :   thy  currish  spirit 
Govern'd  a  wolf,  who  hang'd  for  human  slaughter, 
Even  from  the  gallows  did  his  fell  soul  fleet, 
And,  whilst  thou  lay'st  in  thy  unhallow'd  dam, 
Infused  itself  in  thee ;   for  thy  desires 
Are  wolvish,  bloody,  starved  and  ravenous. 

Shy.  Till  thou  canst  rail  the  seal  from  off  my  bond, 

Thou  but  offend'st  thy  lungs  to  speak  so  loud:     140 
Repair  thy  wit,  good  youth,  or  it  will  fall 
To  cureless  ruin.     I  stand  here  for  law. 

Duke.  This  letter  from  Bellario  doth  commend 
A  young  and  learned  doctor  to  our  court. 
Where  is  he? 

Ner.  He  attendeth  here  hard  by, 

To  know  your  answer,  whether  you  '11  admit  him. 

Duke.  With  all  my  heart.     Some  three  or  four  of  you 
Go  give  him  courteous  conduct  to  this  place. 
Meantime  the  court  shall  hear  Bellario's  letter. 

Clerk.  [Reads]  Your  Grace  shall  understand  that  at  150 
the  receipt  of  your  letter  I  am  very  sick :  but  in 
the  instant  that  your  messenger  came,  in  loving 
visitation  was  with  me  a  young  doctor  of  Rome ; 
his  name  is  Balthasar.  I  acquainted  him  with 
the  cause  in  controversy  between  the  Jew  and 
96 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Antonio  the  merchant :  we  turned  o'er  many 
books  together :  he  is  furnished  with  my  opin- 
ion ;  which,  bettered  with  his  own  learning, — 
the  greatness  whereof  I  cannot  enough  com- 
mend,— comes  with  him,  at  my  importunity,  to  i6o 
fill  up  your  Grace's  request  in  my  stead.  I  be- 
seech you,  let  his  lack  of  years  be  no  impedi- 
ment to  let  him  lack  a  reverend  estimation ;  for 
I  never  knew  so  young  a  body  with  so  old  a  head. 
I  leave  him  to  your  gracious  acceptance,  whose 
trial  shall  better  publish  his  commendation. 
Duke.  You  hear  the  learn'd  Bellario,  what  he  writes  : 
And  here,  I  take  it,  is  the  doctor  come. 

Enter  Portia  for  Balthasar. 

Give  me  your  hand.     Come  you  from  old  Bel- 
lario? 

Por.  I  did,  my  lord. 

Duke.  You  are  welcome :  take  your  place. 

Are  you  acquainted  with  the  difference  171 

That  holds  this  present  question  in  the  court? 

Por.  I  am  informed  throughly  of  the  cause. 

Which  is  the  merchant  here,  and  which  the  Jew  ? 

Duke.  Antonio  and  old  Shylock,  both  stand  forth. 

Por.  Is  your  name  Shylock? 

Shy.  Shylock  is  my  name. 

Por.  Of  a  strange  nature  is  the  suit  you  follow ; 
Yet  in  such  rule  that  the  Venetian  law 
Cannot  impugn  you  as  you  do  proceed. 
You  stand  within  his  danger,  do  you  not?  180 

Ant.  Ay,  so  he  says. 

Por.  Do  you  confess  the  bond? 

Ant.  I  do. 

97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

Shy.  On  what  compulsion  must  I  ?  tell  me  that. 

Por.  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd, 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 

Upon  the  place  beneath :   it  is  twice  blest ; 

It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes : 

'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest :   it  becomes 

The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown ; 

His  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power,     190 

The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 

Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings ; 

But  mercy  is  above  this  sceptred  sway ; 

It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 

It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself ; 

And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 

When  mercy  seasons  justice.     Therefore,  Jew, 

Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this, 

That,  in  the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us 

Should  see  salvation  :   we  do  pray  for  mercy ;      200 

And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 

The  deeds  of  mercy.     I  have  spoke  thus  much 

To  mitigate  the  justice  of  thy  plea; 

Which  if  thou  follow,  this  strict  court  of  Venice 

Must  needs  give  sentence  'gainst  the  merchant  there. 

Shy.  My  deeds  upon  my  head!     I  crave  the  law, 
The  penalty  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 

Por,  Is  he  not  able  to  discharge  the  money? 

Bass.  Yes,  here  I  tender  it  for  him  in  the  court ; 

Yea,  twice  the  sum:   if  that  will  not  suffice,         210 
I  will  be  bound  to  pay  it  ten  times  o'er, 
On  forfeit  of  my  hands,  my  head,  my  heart : 
If  this  will  not  suffice,  it  must  appear 

98 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

That  malice  bears  down  truth.     And  I  beseech 

you, 
Wrest  once  the  law  to  your  authority : 
To  do  a  great  right,  do  a  little  wrong, 
And  curb  this  cruel  devil  of  his  will. 

Por.  It  must  not  be ;  there  is  no  power  in  Venice 
Can  alter  a  decree  established : 

'Twill  be  recorded  for  a  precedent,  220 

And  many  an  error,  by  the  same  example, 
Will  rush  into  the  state :  it  cannot  be. 

Shy.  A  Daniel  come  to  judgement !   yea,  a  Daniel ! 
O  wise  young  judge,  how  I  do  honour  thee ! 

Por.  I  pray  you,  let  me  look  upon  the  bond. 

Shy.  Here  'tis,  most  reverend  doctor,  here  it  is. 

Por.  Shy  lock,  there  's  thrice  thy  money  offer  d  thee. 

Shy.  An  oath,  an  oath,  I  have  an  oath  in  heaven  : 
Shall  I  lay  perjury  upon  my  soul? 
No,  not  for  Venice. 

Por.  '  Why,  this  bond  is  forfeit ;      230 

And  lawfully  by  this  the  Jew  may  claim 
A  pound  of  flesh,  to  be  by  him  cut  off 
Nearest  the  merchant's  heart.     Be  merciful : 
Take  thrice  thy  money ;  bid  me  tear  the  bond. 

Shy.  When  it  is  paid  according  to  the  tenour. 
It  doth  appear  you  are  a  worthy  judge ; 
You  know  the  law,  your  exposition 
Hath  been  most  sound :  I  charge  you  by  the  law, 
WThereof  you  are  a  well-deserving  pillar, 
Proceed  to  judgement:  by  my  soul  I  swear         240 
There  is  no  power  in  the  tongue  of  man 
To  alter  me :  I  stay  here  on  my  bond. 

Ant.  Most  heartily  I  do  beseech  the  court 

99 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

To  give  the  judgement. 
Por.  Why  then,  thus  it  is  : 

You  must  prepare  your  bosom  for  his  knife. 
Shy.  O  noble  judge !     O  excellent  young  man  ! 
Por.  For  the  intent  and  purpose  of  the  law 

Hath  full  relation  to  the  penalty, 

Which  here  appeareth  due  upon  the  bond. 
Shy.  'Tis  very  true :   O  wise  and  upright  judge!         253 

How  much  more  elder  art  thou  than  thy  looks ! 
Por.  Therefore  lay  bare  your  bosom. 
Shy.  Ay,  his  breast : 

So  says  the  bond : — doth  it  not,  noble  judge  ? — 

'  Nearest  his  heart : '   those  are  the  very  words. 
Por.  It  is  so.     Are  there  balance  here  to  weigh 

The  flesh? 
Shy.  I  have  them  ready. 

Por.  Have  by  some  surgeon,  Shylock,  on  your  charge, 

To  stop  his  wounds,  lest  he  do  bleed  to  death. 
Shy.  Is  it  so  nominated  in  the  bond  ? 
Por.  It  is  not  so  express'd  :   but  what  of  that  ?  .  260 

'Twere  good  you  do  so  much  for  charity. 
Shy.  I  cannot  find  it ;  'tis  not  in  the  bond. 
Por.  You,  merchant,  have  you  any  thing  to  say  ? 
Ant.  But  little:   I  am  arm'd  and  well  prepared. 

Give  me  your  hand,  Bassanio :   fare  you  well ! 

Grieve  not  that  I  am  fallen  to  this  for  you ; 

For  herein  Fortune  shows  herself  more  kind 

Than  is  her  custom :   it  is  still  her  use 

To  let  the  wretched  man  outlive  his  wealth, 

To  view  with  hollow  eye  and  wrinkled  brow         270 

An  age  of  poverty ;   from  which  lingering  penance 

Of  such  misery  doth  she  cut  me  off. 

100 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Commend  me  to  your  honourable  wife : 

Tell  her  the  process  of  Antonio's  end ; 

Say  how  I  loved  you,  speak  me  fair  in  death ; 

And,  when  the  tale  is  told,  bid  her  be  judge 

Whether  Bassanio  had  not  once  a  love. 

Repent  but  you  that  you  shall  lose  your  friend, 

And  he  repents  not  that  he  pays  your  debt ; 

And  if  the  Jew  do  cut  but  deep  enough,  280 

I  '11  pay  it  presently  with  all  my  heart. 
Bass.  Antonio,  I  am  married  to  a  wife 

Which  is  as  dear  to  me  as  life  itself ; 

But  life  itself,  my  wife,  and  all  the  world, 

Are  not  with  me  esteem'd  above  thy  life : 

I  would  lose  all,  ay,  sacrifice  them  all 

Here  to  this  devil,  to  deliver  you. 
Por.  Your  wife  would  give  you  little  thanks  for  that, 

If  she  were  by,  to  hear  you  make  the  offer. 
Gra.  I  have  a  wife,  whom,  I  protest,  I  love :  290 

I  would  she  were  in  heaven,  so  she  could 

Entreat  some  power  to  change  this  currish  Jew. 
Ner.  'Tis  well  you  offer  it  behind  her  back ; 

The  wish  would  make  else  an  unquiet  house. 
Shy.  These  be  the  Christian  husbands.     I  have  a  daugh- 
ter; 

Would  any  of  the  stock  of  Barrabas 

Had  been  her  husband  rather  than  a  Christian ! 

[Aside. 

We  trifle  time :    I  pray  thee,  pursue  sentence. 
Por.  A  pound  of  that  same  merchant's  flesh  is  thine : 

The  court  awards  it,  and  the  law  doth  give  it.      300 
Shy.  Most  rightful  judge! 
Por.  And  you  must  cut  this  flesh  from  off  his  breast : 

The  law  allows  it,  and  the  court  awards  it. 
Shy.  Most  learned  judge !     A  sentence !     Come,  prepare ! 

101 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  Tarry  a  little ;   there  is  something  else. 

This  bond  doth  give  thee  here  no  jot  of  blood; 
The  words  expressly  are  '  a  pound  of  flesh  ' : 
Take  then  thy  bond,  take  thou  thy  pound  of  flesh ; 
But,  in  the  cutting  it,  if  thou  dost  shed 
One  drop  of  Christian  blood,  thy  lands  and  goods 
Are,  by  the  laws  of  Venice,  confiscate  311 

Unto  the  state  of  Venice. 

Gra^  O  upright  judge!  Mark,  Jew:  O  learned  judge! 

Shy,  Is  that  the  law  ? 

Per,  Thyself  shalt  see  the  act : 

Por,  as  thou  urgest  justice,  be  assured 
Thou  shalt  have  justice,  more  than  thou  desirest. 

Gra.  O  learned  judge !     Mark,  Jew  :  a  learned  judge ! 

Shy.  I  take  this  offer,  then ;   pay  the  bond  thrice, 
And  let  the  Christian  go. 

Bass.  Here  is  the  money. 

Por.  Soft!  320 

The  Jew  shall  have  all  justice  ;  soft !  no  haste : 
He  shall  have  nothing  but  the  penalty. 

Gra.  OJew!  an  upright  judge,  a  learned  judge! 

Por.  Therefore  prepare  thee  to  cut  off  the  flesh. 

Shed  thou  no  blood ;  nor  cut  thou  less  nor  more 

But  just  a  pound  of  flesh :   if  thou  cut'st  more 

Or  less  than  a  just  pound,  be  it  but  so  much 

As  makes  it  light  or  heavy  in  the  substance, 

Or  the  division,  of  the  twentieth  part 

Of  one  poor  scruple,  nay,  if  the  scale  do  turn        330 

But  in  the  estimation  of  a  hair, 

Thou  diest  and  all  thy  goods  are  confiscate. 

Gra.  A  second  Daniel,  a  Daniel,  Jew ! 
Now,  infidel,  I  have  you  on  the  hip. 
102 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

Por.  Why  doth  the  Jew  pause  ?  take  thy  forfeiture. 
Shy.  Give  me  my  principal,  and  let  me  go. 
Bass.  I  have  it  ready  for  thee ;   here  it  is. 
Por.  He  hath  refused  it  in  the  open  court : 

He  shall  have  merely  justice  and  his  bond. 
Gra.  A  Daniel,  still  say  I,  a  second  Daniel!  34° 

I  thank  thee,  Jew,  for  teaching  me  that  word. 
Shy.  Shall  I  not  have  barely  my  principal  ? 
For.. Thou  shalt  have  nothing  but  the  forfeiture, 

To  be  so  taken  at  thy  peril,  Jew. 
Shy.  Why,  then  the  devil  give  him  good  of  it ! 

I  '11  stay  no  longer  question.  / 

Por.  Tarry,  Jew : 

The  law  hath  yet  another  hold  on  you.  / 

It  is  enacted  in  the  laws  of  Venice, 

If  it  be  proved  against  an  alien 

That  by  direct  or  indirect  attempts  350 

He  seek  the  life  of  any  citizen, 

The  party  'gainst  the  which  he  doth  contrive 

Shall  seize  one  half  his  goods ;  the  other  half 

Comes  to  the  privy  coffer  of  the  state ; 

And  the  offender's  life  lies  in  the  mercy 

Of  the  Duke  only,  'gainst  all  other  voice. 

In  which  predicament,  I  say,  thou  stand'st ; 

For  it  appears,  by  manifest  proceeding, 

That  indirectly,  and  directly  too, 

Thou  hast  contrived  against  the  very  life  360 

Of  the  defendant ;   and  thou  hast  incurrd 

The  danger  formerly  by  me  rehearsed. 

Down,  therefore,  and  beg  mercy  of  the  Duke. 
Gra,  Beg  that  thou  mayst  have  leave  to  hang  thyself : 

And  yet,  thy  wealth  being  forfeit  to  the  state, 
103 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Thou  hast  not  left  the  value  of  a  cord ; 

Therefore  thou  must  be  hang'd  at  the  state's  charge. 

Duke.  That  thou  shalt  see  the  difference  of  our  spirits, 
I  pardon  thee  thy  life  before  thou  ask  it : 
For  half  thy  wealth,  it  is  Antonio's ;  370 

The  other  half  comes  to  the  general  state,  , 
Which  humbleness  may  drive  unto  a  fine. 

Por.  Ay,  for  the  state,  not  for  Antonio. 

Shy.  Nay,  take  my  life  and  all ;  pardon  not  that : 
You  take  my  house,  when  you  do  take  the  prop 
That  doth  sustain  my  house ;  you  take  my  life, 
When  you  do  take  the  means  whereby  I  live. 

Por.  What  mercy  can  you  render  him,  Antonio? 

Gra.  A  halter  gratis ;   nothing  else,  for  God's  sake. 

Ant.  So  please  my  lord  the  Duke  and  all  the  court       380 
To  quit  the  fine  for  one  half  of  his  goods, 
I  am  content ;  so  he  will  let  me  have 
The  other  half  in  use,  to  render  it, 
Upon  his  death,  unto  the  gentleman 
That  lately  stole  his  daughter : 
Two  things  provided  more,  that,  for  this  favour, 
He  presently  become  a  Christian ; 
The  other,  that  he  do  record  a  gift, 
Here  in  the  court,  of  all  he  dies  possess'd, 
Unto  his  son  Lorenzo  and  his  daughter.  390 

Duke.  He  shall  do  this,  or  else  I  do  recant 
The  pardon  that  I  late  pronounced  here. 

Por.  Art  thou  contented,  Jew  ?  what  dost  thou  say  ? 

Shy.  I  am  content. 

Por.  Clerk,  draw  a  deed  of  gift. 

Shy.  I  pray  you,  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence  ; 
I  am  not  well :  send  the  deed  after  me, 
104 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

And  I  will  sign  it. 

Duke.  Get  thee  gone,  but  do  it. 

Gra.  In  christening  shalt  thou  have  two  godfathers  : 

Had    I    been    judge,    thou    shouldst    have    had    ten 

more, 
To  bring  thee  to  the  gallows,  not  the  font.  400 

[Exit  Shylock. 

Duke.  Sir,  I  entreat  you  home  with  me  to  dinner. 

Por.  I  humbly  do  desire  your  Grace  of  pardon : 
I  must  away  this  night  toward  Padua, 
And  it  is  meet  I  presently  set  forth. 

Duke.  I  am  sorry  that  your  leisure  serves  you  not. 
Antonio,  gratify  this  gentleman, 
For,  in  my  mind,  you  are  much  bound  to  him. 

[Exeunt  Duke  and  his  train. 

Bass.  Most  worthy  gentleman,  I  and  my  friend 
Have  by  your  wisdom  been  this  day  acquitted 
Of  grievous  penalties  ;    in  lieu  whereof,  410 

Three  thousand  ducats,  due  unto  the  Jew, 
We  freely  cope  your  courteous  pains  withal. 

Ant.  And  stand  indebted,  over  and  above, 
In  love  and  service  to  you  evermore. 

Por.  He  is  well  paid  that  is  well  satisfied ; 
And  I,  delivering  you,  am  satisfied, 
And  therein  do  account  myself  well  paid : 
My  mind  was  never  yet  more  mercenary. 
I  pray  you,  know  me  when  we  meet  again : 
I  wish  you  well,  and  so  I  take  my  leave.  420 

Bass.  Dear  sir,  of  force  I  must  attempt  you  further : 
Take  some  remembrance  of  us,  as  a  tribute, 
Not  as  a  fee :  grant  me  two  things,  I  pray  you, 
Not  to  deny  me,  and  to  pardon  me. 

105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  You  press  me  far,  and  therefore  I  will  yield. 

Give  me  your  gloves,  I  '11  wear  them  for  your  sake  ; 

[To  Ant. 

And,  for  your  love,  I  '11  take  this  ring  from  you : 

[To  Bass. 

Do  not  draw  back  your  hand ;   I  '11  take  no  more ; 

And  you  in  love  shall  not  deny  me  this. 
Bass.  This  ring,  good  sir,  alas,  it  is  a  trifle !  430 

I  will  not  shame  myself  to  give  you  this. 
Por.  I  will  have  nothing  else  but  only  this ; 

And  now  methinks  I  have  a  mind  to  it. 
Bass.  There  's  more  depends  on  this  than  on  the  value. 

The  dearest  ring  in  Venice  will  I  give  you, 

And  find  it  out  by  proclamation : 

Only  for  this,  I  pray  you,  pardon  me. 
Por.  I  see,  sir,  you  are  liberal  in  offers : 

You  taught  me  first  to  beg ;   and  now  methinks 

You  teach  me  how  a  beggar  should  be  answer'd.  440 
Bass.  Good  sir,  the  ring  was  given  me  by  my  wife ; 

And  when  she  put  it  on,  she  made  me  vow 

That  I  should  neither  sell  nor  give  nor  lose  it. 
Por.  That  'scuse  serves  many  men  to  save  their  gifts. 

An  if  your  wife  be  not  a  mad-woman, 

And  know  how  well  I  have  deserved  the  ring, 

She  would  not  hold  out  enemy  for  ever, 

For  giving  it  to  me.     Well,  peace  be  with  you ! 

[Exeunt  Portia  and  Nerissa. 
Ant.  My  Lord  Bassanio,  let  him  have  the  ring: 

Let  his  deservings  and  my  love  withal  450 

Be  valued  'gainst  your  wife's  commandement. 
Bass.  Go,  Gratiano,  run  and  overtake  him ; 

Give  him  the  ring ;   and  bring  him,  if  thou  canst, 

106 


OF  VENICE  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Unto  Antonio's  house  :    away  !    make  haste. 

[Exit  Gratiano. 
Come,  you  and  I  will  thither  presently ; 
And  in  the  morning  early  will  we  both 
Fly  toward  Belmont :   come,  Antonio.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

The  same.     A  street. 

Enter  Portia  and  Nerissa. 

Por.  Inquire  the  Jew's  house  out,  give  him  this  deed 
And  let  him  sign  it :   we  '11  away  to-night 
And  be  a  day  before  our  husbands  home : 
This  deed  will  be  well  welcome  to  Lorenzo. 

Enter  Gratiano. 

Gra.  Fair  sir,  you  are  well  o'erta'en : 

My  Lord  Bassanio  upon  more  advice 

Hath  sent  you  here  this  ring,  and  doth  entreat 

Your  company  at  dinner. 
Por.  That  cannot  be  : 

His  ring  I  do  accept  most  thankfully : 

And  so,  I  pray  you,  tell  him  :    furthermore,  10 

I  pray  you,  show  my  youth  old  Shylock's  house. 
Gra.  That  will  I  do. 
Ner.  Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you. 

I  '11  see  if  I  can  get  my  husband's  ring, 

[Aside  to  Portia. 

Which  I  did  make  him  swear  to  keep  for  ever. 
Por.   [Aside  to  Ner.}   Thou  mayst,  I  warrant.     We  shall 
have  old  swearing 

That  they  did  give  the  rings  away  to  men ; 

107 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

But  we  '11  outface  them,  and  outswear  them  too. 
[Aloud]   Away !   make  haste :   thou  know'st  where  I 
will  tarry. 
Ner.  Come,  good  sir,  will  you  show  me  to  this  house  ? 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

Belmont.     Avenue  to  Portia's  house. 
Enter  Lorenzo  and  Jessica. 

Lor.  The  moon  shines  bright :   in  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees 
And  they  did  make  no  noise,  in  such  a  night 
Troilus  methinks  mounted  the  Troyan  walls, 
And  sigh'd  his  soul  toward  the  Grecian  tents, 
Where  Cressid  lay  that  night. 

Jes.  In  such  a  night 

Did  Thisbe  fearfully  o'ertrip  the  dew, 
And  saw  the  lion's  shadow  ere  himself, 
And  ran  dismay'd  away. 

Lor.  In  such  a  night 

Stood  Dido  with  a  willow  in  her  hand  10 

Upon  the  wild  sea  banks,  and  waft  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage. 

Jes.  In  such  a  night 

Medea  gather -d  enchanted  herbs 
That  did  renew  old  ^Eson. 

Lor.  In  such  a  night 

Did  Jessica  steal  from  the  wealthy  Jew, 

108 


OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

And  with  an  unthrift  love  did  run  from  Venice 

As  far  as  Belmont. 
Jes.  In  such  a  night 

Did  young  Lorenzo  swear  he  loved  her  well, 

Stealing  her  soul  with  many  vows  of  faith 

And  ne'er  a  true  one. 
Lor.  In  such  a  night  20 

Did  pretty  Jessica,  like  a  little  shrew, 

Slander  her  love,  and  he  forgave  it  her. 
Jes.  I  would  out-night  you,  did  no  body  come ; 

But,  hark,  I  hear  the  footing  of  a  man. 

Enter  Stephano. 

Lor.  Who  comes  so  fast  in  silence  of  the  night  ? 

Steph.  A  friend. 

Lor.  A  friend!    what  friend?    your  name,   I  pray  you, 
friend  ? 

Steph.  Stephano  is  my  name ;   and  I  bring  word 
My  mistress  will  before  the  break  of  day 
Be  here  at  Belmont :   she  doth  stray  about  30 

By  holy  crosses,  where  she  kneels  and  prays 
For  happy  wedlock  hours. 

Lor.  Who  comes  with  her? 

Steph.  None  but  a  holy  hermit  and  her  maid. 
I  pray  you,  is  my  master  yet  return'd? 

Lor.  He  is  not,  nor  we  have  not  heard  from  him. 
But  go  we  in,  I  pray  thee,  Jessica, 
And  ceremoniously  let  us  prepare 
Some  welcome  for  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Enter  Lanncelot. 

Laun.  Sola,  sola!   wo  ha,  ho!   sola,  sola! 

109 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Lor.  Who  calls  4° 

Latin.  Sola !   did  you  see  Master  Lorenzo  ?   Master 
Lorenzo,  sola,  sola! 

Lor.  Leave  hollaing,  man :  here. 

Latin.  Sola!   where?   where? 

Lor.  Here. 

Laun.  Tell  him  there  's  a  post  come  from  my  master, 
with  his  horn  full  of  good  news :  my  master  will 
be  here  ere  morning.  [Exit. 

Lor.  Sweet  soul,  let 's  in,  and  there  expect  their  coming. 
And  yet  no  matter :   why  should  we  go  in  ?  50 

My  friend  Stephano,  signify,  I  pray  you, 
Within  the  house,  your  mistress  is  at  hand ; 
And  bring  your  music  forth  into  the  air. 

[Exit  Stephano. 
How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears :   soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
Sit,  Jessica.     Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold : 
There  's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold' st  60 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins ; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 

Enter  Musicians. 

Come,  ho,  and  wake  Diana  with  a  hymn ! 

With  sweetest  touches  pierce  your  mistress'  ear, 

And  draw  her  home  with  music,  [Music. 

110 


OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Jes.  I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweet  music. 

Lor.  The  reason  is,  your  spirits  are  attentive :  70 

For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 
Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhandled  colts, 
Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing  and  neighing  loud, 
Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood ; 
If  they  but  hear  perchance  a  trumpet  sound, 
Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears, 
You  shall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand, 
Their  savage  eyes  turn'd  to  a  modest  gaze 
By  the  sweet  power  of  music :  therefore  the  poet 
Did  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones  and  floods ; 
Since  nought  so  stockish,  hard  and  full  of  rage,     81 
But  music  for  the  time  doth  change  his  nature. 
The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
.  Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils  ; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus : 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted.     Mark  the  music. 

Enter  Portia  and  Nerissa. 

Por.  That  light  we  see  is  burning  in  my  hall. 

How  far  that  little  candle  throws  his  beams !  90 

So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world. 

Ner.  When  the  moon  shone,  we  did  not  see  the  candle. 

Por,  So  doth  the  greater  glory  dim  the  less : 
A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king, 
Until  a  king  be  by;  and  then  his  state 
Empties  itself,  as  doth  an  inland  brook 
Into  the  main  of  waters.     Music !   hark ! 

Ner.  It  is  your  music,  madam,  of  the  house. 

in 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

Por.  Nothing  is  good,  I  see,  without  respect : 

Methinks  it  sounds  much  sweeter  than  by  day.     ioo 

Ner.  Silence  bestows  that  virtue  on  it,  madam. 

Por.  The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  lark, 
When  neither  is  attended ;   and  I  think 
The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren. 
How  many  things  by  season  season'd  are 
To  their  right  praise  and  true  perfection ! 
Peace,  ho!   the  moon  sleeps  with  Endymion, 
And  would  not  be  awaked.  [Music  ceases. 

Lor.  That  is  the  voice,  no 

Or  I  am  much  deceived,  of  Portia. 

Por.  He  knows  me  as  the  blind  man  knows  the  cuckoo, 
By  the  bad  voice. 

Lor.  Dear  lady,  welcome  home. 

Por.  We  have  been  praying  for  our  husbands'  healths, 
Which  speed,  we  hope,  the  better  for  our  words. 
Are  they  return'd? 

Lor.  Madam,  they  are  not  yet ; 

But  there  is  come  a  messenger  before, 
To  signify  their  coming. 

Por.  Go  in,  Nerissa; 

Give  order  to  my  servants  that  they  take 
No  note  at  all  of  our  being  absent  hence ;  120 

Nor  you,  Lorenzo ;  Jessica,  nor  you. 

[A  tucket  sounds. 

Lor.  Your  husband  is  at  hand  ;   I  hear  his  trumpet : 
We  are  no  tell-tales,  madam ;   fear  you  not. 

Por.  This  night  methinks  is  but  the  daylight  sick ; 
It  looks  a  little  paler :   'tis  a  day, 
Such  as  the  day  is  when  the  sun  is  hid. 

112 


OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Bassanio,  Antonio,  Gratiano,  and  their  followers. 

Bass.  We  should  hold  day  with  the  Antipodes, 
If  you  would  walk  in  absence  of  the  sun. 

Por.  Let  me  give  light,  but  let  me  not  be  light ; 

For  a  light  wife  doth  make  a  heavy  husband,  130 

And  never  be  Bassanio  so  for  me : 

But  God  sort  all !     You  are  welcome  home,  my  lord. 

Bass.  I  thank  you,  madam.     Give  welcome  to  my  friend. 
This  is  the  man,  this  is  Antonio, 
To  whom  I  am  so  infinitely  bound. 

Por.  You  should  in  all  sense  be  much  bound  to  him, 
For,  as  I  hear,  he  was  much  bound  for  you. 

Ant.  No  more  than  I  am  well  acquitted  of. 

Por.  Sir,  you  are  very  welcome  to  our  house : 

It  must  appear  in  other  ways  than  words,  140 

Therefore  I  scant  this  breathing  courtesy. 

Gra.    [To  Nerissa]    By  yonder  moon  I  swear  you  do  me 
wrong ; 
In  faith,  I  gave  it  to  the  judge's  clerk: 
Would  he  were  gelt  that  had  it,  for  my  part, 
Since  you  do  take  it,  love,  so  much  at  heart. 

Lor.  A  quarrel,  ho,  already!   what's  the  matter? 

Gra.  About  a  hoop  of  gold,  a  paltry  ring 
That  she  did  give  me,  whose  posy  was 
For  all  the  world  like  cutler's  poetry 
Upon  a  knife,  '  Love  me,  and  leave  me  not.'  150 

Ner.  What  talk  you  of  the  posy  or  the  value  ? 
You  swore  to  me,  when  I  did  give  it  you, 
That  you  would  wear  it  till  your  hour  of  death, 
And  that  it  should  lie  with  you  in  your  grave : 
Though  not  for  me,  yet  for  your  vehement  oaths, 

113 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

You  should  have  been  respective,  and  have  kept  it. 

Gave  it  a  judge's  clerk!  no,  God  's  my  judge, 

The  clerk  will  ne'er  wear  hair  on  's  face  that  had  it. 

Gra.  He  will,  an  if  he  live  to  be  a  man. 

Ner.  Ay,  if  a  woman  live  to  be  a  man.  160 

Gra.  Now,  by  this  hand  I  gave  it  to  a  youth, 
A  kind  of  boy,  a  little  scrubbed  boy, 
No  higher  than  thyself,  the  judge's  clerk, 
A  prating  boy,  that  begg'd  it  as  a  fee : 
I  could  not  for  my  heart  deny  it  him. 

Por.  You  were  to  blame,  I  must  be  plain  with  you, 
To  part  so  slightly  with  your  wife's  first  gift ; 
A  thing  stuck  on  with  oaths  upon  your  finger 
And  so  riveted  with  faith  unto  your  flesh. 
I  gave  my  love  a  ring  and  made  him  swear  170 

Never  to  part  with  it ;  and  here  he  stands ; 
I  dare  be  sworn  for  him  he  would  not  leave  it. 
Nor  pluck  it  from  his  finger,  for  the  wealth 
That  the  world  masters.     Now,  in  faith,  Gratiano, 
You  give  your  wife  too  unkind  a  cause  of  grief : 
An  'twere  to  me,  I  should  be  mad  at  it. 

Bass.   [Aside]   Why,  I  were  best  to  cut  my  left  hand  off, 
And  swear  I  lost  the  ring  defending  it. 

Gra.  My  Lord  Bassanio  gave  his  ring  away 

Unto  the  judge  that  begg'd  it,  and  indeed  180 

Deserved  it  too ;  and  then  the  boy,  his  clerk, 
That  took  some  pains  in  writing,  he  begg'd  mine ; 
And  neither  man  nor  master  would  take  aught 
But  the  two  rings. 

Por.  What  ring  gave  you,  my  lord  ? 

Not  that,  I  hope,  which  you  received  of  me. 

Bass.  If  I  could  add  a  lie  unto  a  fault, 

114 


OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

I  would  deny  it ;  but  you  see  my  finger 
Hath  not  the  ring  upon  it,  it  is  gone. 
Por.  Even  so  void  is  your  false  heart  of  truth. 

By  heaven,  I  will  ne'er  come  in  your  bed      %         190 
Until  I  see  the  ring. 
A/Vr.  Nor  I  in  yours 

Till  I  again  see  mine. 
Bass.  Sweet  Portia, 

If  you  did  know  to  whom  I  gave  the  ring, 
If  you  did  know  for  whom  I  gave  the  ring, 
And  would  conceive  for  what  I  gave  the  ring, 
And  how  unwillingly  I  left  the  ring, 
When  nought  would  be  accepted  but  the  ring, 
You  would  abate  the  strength  of  your  displeasure. 
Por.  If  you  had  known  the  virtue  of  the  ring, 

Or  half  her  worthiness  that  gave  the  ring,  200 

Or  your  own  honour  to  contain  the  ring, 
You  would  not  then  have  parted  with  the  ring. 
What  man  is  there  so  much  unreasonable, 
If  you  had  pleased  to  have  defended  it 
With  any  terms  of  zeal,  wanted  the  modesty 
To  urge  the  thing  held  as  a  ceremony  ? 
Nerissa  teaches  me  what  to  believe : 
I  '11  die  for  't  but  some  woman  had  the  ring. 
Bass.  No,  by  my  honour,  madam,  by  my  soul, 

No  woman  had  it,  but  a  civil  doctor,  210 

Which  did  refuse  three  thousand  ducats  of  me, 
And  begg'd  the  ring ;   the  which  I  did  deny  him, 
And  suffer'd  him  to  go  displeased  away ; 
Even  he  that  did  uphold  the  very  life 
Of  my  dear  friend.     What  should  I  say,  sweet  lady? 
I  was  enforced  to  send  it  after  him ; 
115 


Act  V.  Sc.  I.  THE  MERCHANT 

I  was  beset  with  shame  and  courtesy ; 

My  honour  would  not  let  ingratitude 

So  much  besmear  it.     Pardon  me,  good  lady ; 

For,  by  these  blessed  candles  of  the  night,  220 

Ha(f  you  been  there,  I  think  you  would  have  begg'd 

The  ring  of  me  to  give  the  worthy  doctor. 

For.  Let  not  that  doctor  e'er  come  near  my  house : 
Since  he  hath  got  the  jewel  that  I  loved, 
And  that  which  you  did  swear  to  keep  for  me, 
I  will  become  as  liberal  as  you ; 
I  '11  not  deny  him  any  thing  I  have, 
No,  not  my  body  nor  my  husband's  bed : 
Know  him  I  shall,  I  am  well  sure  of  it : 
Lie  not  a  night  from  home ;  watch  me  like  Argus : 
If  you  do  not,  if  I  be  left  alone,  231 

Now,  by  mine  honour,  which  is  yet  mine  own, 
I  '11  have  that  doctor  for  my  bedfellow. 

Ner.  And  I  his  clerk;  therefore  be  well  advised 
How  you  do  leave  me  to  mine  own  protection. 

Gra.  Well,  do  you  so,  let  not  me  take  him,  then  ; 
For  if  I.  do,  I  '11  mar  the  young  clerk's  pen. 

Ant.  I  am  the  unhappy  subject  of  these  quarrels. 

For.  Sir,  grieve  not  you  ;   you  are  welcome  notwithstand- 
ing. 

Bass.  Portia,  forgive  me  this  enforced  wrong ;  240 

And,  in  the  hearing  of  these  many  friends,  > 
I  swear  to  thee,  even  by  thine  own  fair  eyes, 
Wherein  I  see  myself, — 

For.  Mark  you  but  that! 

In  both  my  eyes  he  doubly  sees  himself ; 
In  each  eye,  one :   swear  by  your  double  self, 
And  there  's  an  oath  of  credit. 

Bass.  Nay,  but  hear  me: 

116 


OF  VENICE  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Pardon  this  fault,  and  by  my  soul  I  swear 
I  never  more  will  break  an  oath  with  thee. 

Ant.  I  once  did  lend  my  body  for  his  wealth ; 

Which,  but  for  him  that  had  your  husband's  ring,  250 
Had  quite  miscarried  :  I  dare  be  bound  again, 
My  soul  upon  the  forfeit,  that  your  lord 
Will  never  more  break  faith  advisedly. 

Por.  Then  you  shall  be  his  surety.     Give  him  this, 
And  bid  him  keep  it  better  than  the  other. 

Ant.  Here,  Lord  Bassanio;   swear  to  keep  this  ring. 

Bass.  By  heaven,  it  is  the  same  I  gave  the  doctor ! 

Por.  I  had  it  of  him :   pardon  me,  Bassanio ; 
For,  by  this  ring,  the  doctor  lay  with  me. 

Ner.  And  pardon  me,  my  gentle  Gratiano;  260 

For  that  same  scrubbed  boy,  the  doctor's  clerk, 
In  lieu  of  this  last  night  did  lie  with  me. 

Gra.  Why,  this  is  like  the  mending  of  highways 
In  summer,  where  the  ways  are  fair  enough : 
What,  are  we  cuckolds  ere  we  have  deserved  it? 

Por.  Speak  not  so  grossly.     You  are  all  amazed  : 
Here  is  a  letter ;   read  it  at  your  leisure ; 
It  comes  from  Padua,  from  Bellario : 
There  you  shall  find  that  Portia  was  the  doctor, 
Nerissa  there  her  clerk :    Lorenzo  here  270 

Shall  witness  I  set  forth  as  soon  as  you, 
And  even  but  now  return'd ;   I  have  not  yet 
Enter'd  my  house.     Antonio,  you  are  welcome ; 
And  I  have  better  news  in  store  for  you 
Than  you  expect :   unseal  this  letter  soon  ; 
There  you  shall  find  three  of  your  argosies 
Are  richly  come  to  harbour  suddenly : 
You  shall  not  know  by  what  strange  accident 
117 


*Act  V.  Sc.  i.  THE  MERCHANT 

I  chanced  on  this  letter 

Ant.  I  am  dumb. 

Bass.  Were  you  the  doctor  and  I  knew  you  not  ?  280 

Gra.  Were  you  the  clerk  that  is  to  make  me  cuckold? 

Ner.  Ay,  but  the  clerk  that  never  means  to  do  it, 
Unless  he  live  until  he  be  a  man. 

Bass.  Sweet  doctor,  you  shall  be  my  bedfellow : 
When  I  am  absent,  then  lie  with  my  wife. 

Ant.  Sweet  lady,  you  have  given  me  life  and  living; 
For  here  I  read  for  certain  that  my  ships 
Are  safely  come  to  road. 

Por.  How  now,  Lorenzo ! 

My  clerk  hath  some  good  comforts  too  for  you. 

Ner.  Ay,  and  I  '11  give  them  him  without  a  fee.  290 

There  do  I  give  to  you  and  Jessica, 
From  the  rich  Jew,  a  special  deed  of  gift, 
After  his  death,  of  all  he  dies  possess'd  of. 

Lor.  Fair  ladies,  you  drop  manna  in  the  way 
Of  starved  people. 

Por.  It  is  almost  morning, 

And  yet  I  am  sure  you  are  not  satisfied 
Of  these  events  at  full.     Let  us  go  in  ; 
And  charge  us  there  upon  inter' gatories. 
And  we  will  answer  all  things  faithfully. 

Gra.  Let  it  be  so :   the  first  inter'gatory  300 

That  my  Nerissa  shall  be  sworn  on  is, 
Whether  till  the  next  night  she  had  rather  stay, 
Or  go  to  bed  now,  being  two  hours  to  day : 
But  were  the  day  come,  I  should  wish  it  dark, 
That  I  were  couching  with  the  doctor's  clerk. 
Well,  while  I  live  I  '11  fear  no  other  thing 
So  sore  as  keeping  safe  Nerissa's  ring.         [Exeunt. 


118 


OF  VENICE 


Glossary. 


Abode,  delay;  II.  vi.  21. 

Abridged;  "to  be  a.,"  *".«?.  "at 
being  a.";  I.  i.  127. 

Address'd  me,  prepared  my- 
self; II.  ix.  19. 

Advice,  reflection;  IV.  ii.  6. 

Advised,  cautious,  heedful;  I.  i. 

143- 
Advisedly,  intentionally;   V.   1. 

253-  ... 

Affection,  feeling;  II.  vm.  48. 

Approve,  prove,  confirm;  III. 
ii.  79- 

Argosies,  merchant-ships  (orig- 
inally the  large  and  richly 
freighted  ships  of  Ragusa)  ; 
I.  i.  9. 

Attempt,  tempt;  IV.  i.  421. 

Attended,  attended  to,  marked; 
V.  i.   103. 

Baned,  poisoned;  IV.  i.  46. 

Bare,  bare-headed ;  II.  ix.  44. 

Bated,  reduced ;  III.  iii.  32. 

Beholding,  beholden;  I.  iii.  105. 

Best-regarded,  best-  looking, 
handsomest;  II.  i.  10. 

Blent,  blended;  III.  ii.  182. 

Blest,  used  with  a  superlative 
force,  and  perhaps  a  con- 
tracted form  of  "  blessed'st  " ; 
II.  i.  46. 

Bonnet,  head-gear;  I.  ii.  80. 

Bottom,  hold  of  a  vessel;  I.  i. 
42. 


Break   up,  break  open;   II.   iv. 

10. 
Breathing,  verbal ;  V.  i.  141. 
Burial,  burial-place;  I.  i.  29. 
By,  at  hand,  near  by ;  IV.  i.  257. 

Cater-cousins,  remote  relations. 
good  friends;  "are  scarce 
c,"  i.e.  "  are  not  great 
friends  "  ;  II.  ii.  134- 

Cerecloth  (Quarto  1,  sere- 
cloth;  Folios  1,  2,  seare- 
cloath),  a  cloth  dipped  in 
melted  wax  to  be  used  as  a 
shroud;  II.  vii.  51. 

Ceremony,  sacred  object;  V.  i. 
206. 

Charge;  "  on  your  charge,"  at 
your  expense;  IV.  i.  257. 

Cheer,  countenance;  III.  ii.  3U- 

Childhood;  "  c.  proof"  (used 
adjectively)  ;  I.  i.  145- 

Choose,   "let   it   alone!"   I.   ii. 

50. 
Circumstance,    circumlocution ; 

I.  i.   155. 

Civil    doctor,    doctor    of    civil 

law;  V.  i.  210. 
Civility,  civilisation ;  II.  ii.  200. 
Close,  secret;  II.  vi.  47- 
Commends,       commendations ; 

II.  ix.  90. 

Complexion,  nature;  III.  i.  32. 


119 


Glossary 


THE  MERCHANT 


Compromised  (Folio  i,  com- 
premyz'd;  Quartos  I,  2,  com- 
premyzd;  Folios  2,  3,  com- 
primyz'd),  come  to  a  mutual 
agreement ;   I.   iii.   78. 

Confound,  destroy;  III.  ii.  277. 

Confusions;  Launcelot's  blun- 
der for  "conclusions'";  II. 
ii.  38. 

Constant,  self-possessed;  III. 
ii.  248. 

Contain,  retain;  V.  i.  201. 

Continent,  that  which  contains 
anything;  III.  ii.  130. 

Contrary,  wrong;  I.  ii.   101. 

Contrive,  conspire;  IV.  i.  352. 

Cope,  requite;  IV.  i.  412. 

Counterfeit,  likeness;  III.  ii. 
115. 

County,  count;  I.  ii.  48. 

Cousin,  kinsman ;  III.  iv.  50. 

Cover,  wear  hats ;  II.  ix.  44. 

Cureless  (the  reading  of  the 
Quartos;  the  Folios  read 
"endless"),  beyond  cure; 
IV.  i.  142. 

Danger,     absolute     power     (to 

harm)  ;  IV.  i.  180. 
Death  =  death's   head;    II.   vii. 

63. 
Death's  head  with  a  bone  in  his 
mouth;  I.  ii.  55;  cp-  the  ac- 


companying seal  to  a  deed  of 
conveyance  dated  1613. 

Deface,  cancel,  destroy ;  III.  ii. 
300. 

Difference,  dispute ;  IV.  i.  171. 

Disabled,  crippled;  I.  i.  124. 

Disabling,  undervaluing ;  II. 
vii.  30. 

Discover,  reveal;  II.  vii.  I. 

Doit,  a  small  coin  ;  I.  iii.  140. 

Drive,  commute ;  IV.  i.  372. 

Ducats;  the  value  of  the  Vene- 
tian silver  ducat  (see  cut) 
was  about  that  of  the  Amer- 
ican dollar;  I.  iii.   1. 


From  an  engraving  by  F.  W.  Faiiholt 


Eanlings,  lambs  just  born;  I. 
iii.  79. 

Entertain,  maintain;  I.  i.  90. 

Equal,  equivalent ;  I.  iii.  149. 

Estate,  state;  III.  ii.  237. 

Excess,  interest ;  I.  iii.  62. 

Excrement,  hair;  "valour's 
ex.,"  i.e.  "a  brave  man's 
beard";  III.  ii.  87. 

Eye;  "  within  the  eye  of  hon- 
our " ;  i.e.  "  within  the  sight 
of  h.";  "within  the  scope  of 
honour's  vision  " ;  I.  i.  138. 

Fairness,  beauty ;  III.  ii.  94. 
Faithless,    unbelieving;    II.    iv. 

37- 
Fall,  let  fall;  I.  iii.  88. 
Falls,  falls  out ;  III.  ii.  203. 


120 


OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Fancy,  love;  III.  ii.  63,  68. 

Fear'd,  frightened;   II.  i.  9. 

Fearful,  filling  one  with  fear; 
I.  iii.   175. 

Fife;  "  wry-necked  f.,"  a  small 
flute,  called  flute  a  bee,  the 
upper  part  or  mouthpiece  re- 
sembling the  beak  of  a  bird, 
hence  the  epithet  "  wry- 
necked  "  ;  according  to  others 
"fife"  here  means  the  mu- 
sician, cp.  "  A  fife  is  a  wry- 
neckt  musician,  for  he  always 
looks  away  from  his  instru- 
ment"  (Barnaby  '  Riche's 
Aphorisms,  1016)  ;  II.  v.  30. 


From  a  sculpture  upon  a  XHIth  Cent, 
building  at  Rheims. 

Fill-horse  (Quarto  2  and  Fo- 
lios '  pil-horse  ' ;  Theobald, 
'  thill-horse  ' ) ,  shaft-horse  ; 
II.  ii.  96. 

Find  forth,  find  out,  seek;  I.  i. 
144. 

Flood,  waters,  seas;  I.  i.  10; 
IV.  i.  72. 

Fond,  foolish;  II.  ix.  27. 

Foot,  spurn  with  the  foot;  I. 
iii.   118. 


Foot,  path ;  II.  iv.  35. 
Footing,  footfall ;  V.  i.  24. 
For,  of;  III.  iv.  10. 
Fraught,  freighted;  II.  viii.  30. 
Fretten,  fretted;  IV.  i.  77. 
Fulsome,  rank;  I.  iii.  86. 

Gaberdine,  a  large  loose  cloak 
of  coarse  stuff;  I.  iii.  113. 

Gaged,  pledged;  I.  i.  131. 

Gaping  pig,  a  roast  pig  with  a 
lemon  in  its  mouth ;  IV.  i.  47. 

Garnish,  apparel;  II.  vi.  45. 

Gear;  "  for  this  g.,"  i.e.  for  this 
matter,  business ;  "  a  collo- 
quial expression  perhaps  of 
no  very  determinate  im- 
port" ;  I.  i.  no;  II.  ii.  171. 

Gelt,  mutilated;  V.  i.  144. 

Gratify,  reward;  IV.  i.  406. 

Gross;  "  to  term  in  gross,"  to 
sum  up ;  III.  ii.  159. 

Guard,  guardianship ;  I.  iii.  175. 

Guarded,   ornamented;     II.     ii. 

159. 
Guilcd,  full  of  guile,  treacher- 
ous ;  III.  ii.  97. 

Habit,  behaviour ;  II.  ii.  195. 

Heavens;  "  for  the  heavens," 
for  heaven's  sake ;  II.  ii.  12. 

Heaviness,  sadness;  "his  em- 
braced h." ;  the  sadness 
which  he  hugs ;  II.  viii.  52. 

High-day,  holiday,  high-flown, 
extravagant;  II.  ix.  98. 

Hip;  "catch  upon  the  h." ;  a 
term  taken  from  wrestling, 
meaning  "  to  have  an  advan- 
tage over  "  ;  I.  iii.  46. 

Hood,  "  Hood-mine  eyes  thus 
with  my  hat  "  ;  II.  ii.  198. 


121 


Glossary 


THE  MERCHANT 


From  the  MS.  {temp.  Elizabeth)  Sloane 
3794- 

Hovel-post,  the  support  of  the 
roof  of  an  out-house;  II.  ii. 
69. 

Husbandry,  government,  stew- 
ardship; III.  iv.  25. 

Imagined,  all  imaginable;   III. 

iv.  52. 
Imposition,   an    imposed   task; 

III.  iv.    33;    a    binding    ar- 
rangement; I.  ii.  in. 

Incarnal;  Launcelot's  blunder 
for  "  incarnate  "  ;  II.  ii.  29. 

Inexecrable,  beyond  execra- 
tion (perhaps  a  misprint  for 
"  inexorable,''  the  reading  of 
the  third  and  fourth  Folios)  ; 

IV.  i.   128. 

Insculp'd,  carved  in  relief;  II. 
vii.  57- 

Jacks,  used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt;   III.   iv.   77. 

Jump  with,  agree  with;  II.  ix. 
32. 

Kept,  lived;  III.  iii.  19. 


Knapped,  broke  into  small 
pieces  (or  "nibbled");  III. 
i.  10  (see  Notes). 

Level,  aim;  I.  ii.  41. 

Liberal,  free;  II.  ii.  190. 

Lichas,  the  servant  of  Deianira, 
who  brought  Hercules  the 
poisoned  robe  (cp.  Ovid, 
Met.  ix.  155)  ;  II.  i.  32. 

Livings,  estates ;  III.  ii.  157. 

Low,  humble;  I.  iii.  43. 

Manage,  management ;   III.  iv. 

25. 

Melancholy  bait,  bait  of  melan- 
choly; I.  i.  101. 

Mere,  certain,  unqualified ;  III. 
ii.  263. 

Mind;  "  have  in  mind,"  bear  in 
mind;  I.  i.  71. 

Mind  of  love,  loving  mind;  II. 
viii.  42. 

Moe,  more;  I.  i.  108. 

Mutual,  general,  common;  V. 
i.  77- 

Narrow  seas,  English  channel ; 

III.  i.  4. 
Naughty,  wicked;  III.  ii.  18. 
Nazarite,  Nazarene;  I.  iii.  34. 
Neat,  ox;  I.  i.  112. 
Nestor,   the    oldest    of   heroes, 

taken  as  the  type  of  gravity; 

I.  i.  56. 
Nominated,  stated;  I.  iii.  149. 
Now   .   .   .    now,  one  moment 

...    at  the  next ;  I.  i.  35-6. 


Obliged,  pledged;  II.  vi.  7. 


122 


OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


Occasion;  "quarrelling  with 
o.,"  i.e.  "  at  odds  with  the 
matter  in  question,  turning  it 
into  ridicule  without  rea- 
son "  ;  III.  v.  60. 

O'er-look'd,  bewitched;  III.  ii. 
15. 

Of,  on;  II.  ii.  99;  with,  II.  iv. 

23- 

Off  ends' t,  vexest ;  IV.  i.   140. 

Old  (used  intensitively),  abun- 
dant, great;  IV.  ii.  15. 

Opinion  of,  reputation  for;  I. 
i.  91. 

Ostent,  demeanour;;  II.  ii.  201. 

Other,  others ;  I.  i.  54. 

Out-dwells,  out-stays ;  II.  vi.  3. 

Out   of  doubt,  without   doubt ; 

I.  i.  21 ;  I.  i.  156. 
Over-name,    run    their    names 

over ;  I.  ii.  39. 
Over-weather  d,    weather-beat- 
en; II.  vi.  18. 

Pageants,  shows;  I.  i.  ir. 

Pain,  pains ;  II.  ii.  190. 

Parts,  duties,  functions ;  IV.  i. 

92. 
Passion,  outcry;  II.  viii.  12. 
Patch,   fool,    simpleton,   jester; 

II.  v.  46. 

Patines;  the  "  patine "  is  the 
plate  used  in  the  Eucharist ; 
"patines  of  bright  gold" 
seems  to  mean  "  the  orbs  of 
heaven,"  i.e.  either  (1)  the 
planets,  or  (2)  the  stars; 
possibly,  however,  the  refer- 
ence is  to  "the  broken  clouds, 
like  flaky  disks  of  curdled 
gold  which  slowly  drift 
across  the  heavens  "  ;  V.  i.  59. 


Peizc,  to  weigh,  keep  in  sus- 
pense, delay;  III.  ii.  22. 

Pent-house,  a  porch  with  a 
sloping  roof;  II.  vi.  1. 

Pied,  spotted;  I.  iii.  79. 

Port,  importance ;  III.  ii.  282. 

Possess  d,  acquainted,  in- 
formed; I.  iii.  64. 

Post,  "  with  his  horn  full  of 
good  news,"  postman ;  V.  i. 
47- 


From  a  tract  entitled  A  Speedy  Post. 
with  a  Packet  of  Letters  ana  Com- 
/>/itnents,  n.  d. 

Posy,  a  motto  inscribed  on  the 
inner  side  of  a  ring;  V.  i. 
1. 


From  a  Specimen  found  at  Arreton, 
Isle  of  Wight. 

Power,  authority ;  IV.  i.  104. 
Preferr'd,  recommended;  II.  ii. 

150. 
Presently,    immediately;     I.    i. 

184. 
Prest,  prepared;  I.  i.  161. 


123 


Glossary 


THE  MERCHANT 


Prevented,  anticipated;  I.  i. 
61. 

Proper,  handsome ;  I.  ii.  76. 

Publican,  an  allusion  perhaps 
to  the  parable  of  the  Phari- 
see and  the  publican  (St. 
Luke  xviii.  10-14)  ',  I-  iii-  41. 

Quaintly,  gracefully;   II.   iv.  6. 
Question,  are  disputing,   argu- 
ing; IV.  i.  70. 
Quit,  remit;   IV.  i.  381. 

Raised,  roused;  II.  viii.  4. 

Reason  d,  had  a  conversation  ; 
II.  viii.  27. 

Regreets,  greetings  ;  II.    ix.  89. 

Remorse,  compassion ;  IV.  i. 
20. 

Repent,  regret;  IV.  i.  278,  279. 

Reproach;  Launcelot's  blunder 
for  "  approach  "  ;  II.  v.  20. 

Respect,  proper  attention  (or 
perhaps  "  respect  to  circum- 
stances ")  ;  V.  i.  99. 

Respect  upon;  "*you  have  too 
much  r.  u.,"  i.e.  "you  look 
too  much  upon";  I.  i.  74. 

Respective,  mindful;  V.  i.  156. 

Rest;  "  set  up  my  rest,"  made 
up  my  mind  (a  phrase  prob- 
ably derived  from  the  game 
of  Primero;  resto  meant  to 
bet  or  wager,  which  appears 
to  have  been  made  by  the 
players  only)  ;  II.  ii.  105. 

Rialto;  "  The  Rialto,  which  is 
at  the  farthest  side  of  the 
bridge  as  you  come  from  St. 
Mark's,  is  a  most  stately 
building,  being  the  Exchange 
of  Venice,   where  the  Vene- 


tian gentlemen  and  mer- 
chants do  meet  twice  a  day. 
....  This  Rialto  is  of  a 
goodly  height,  built  all  with 
brick  as  the  palaces  are, 
adorned  with  many  fair 
walks  or  open  galleries,  and 
hath  a  pretty  quadrangular 
court  adjoining  to  it.  But  it 
is  inferior  to  our  Exchange 
in  London." — Coryat's  Crudi- 
ties  (1611). 

Rib,  enclose;  II.  vii.  51. 

Ripe,  urgent ;  I.  iii.  63. 

Riping,  ripening;  II.  viii.  40. 

Road,  port,  harbour;  V.  i.  288. 

Sad,  grave;  II.  ii.  201. 
Sand-blind,   half-blind;     II.    ii. 

37- 

Scant,  moderate;  III.  ii.  112. 

Scanted,  restrained,  limited;  II. 
i.  17. 

Scarfed,  decorated,  beflagged ; 
II.  vi.  15. 

Scrubbed,  small,  ill-favoured, 
scrubby ;  V.  i.  162. 

Self,  self-same ;  I.  i.  149. 

Sense ;  "  in  all  sense,"  with 
good  reason ;  V.  i.  136. 

Sensible,  evident  to  the  senses, 
substantial,  II.  ix.  89;  sensi- 
tive, II.  viii.  48. 

Should,  would;  I.  ii.  98,  99. 

Shows,  outward  appearance; 
II.  vii.  20. 

Shrewd,  bad,  evil ;  III.  ii.  244. 

Shrive  me,  be  my  father-con- 
fessor; I.  ii.  140. 

Sibylla;  a  reference  probably  to 
the  Cumsean  Sibyl,  who  ob- 
tained from  Apollo  a  prom- 


124 


OF  VENICE 


Glossary 


ise  that  her  years  should  be 
as  many  as  the  grains  of 
sand  she  was  holding  in  her 
hand  (cp  Ovid,  Met.  xv.)  ;  I. 
ii.  13. 
Single;  "  your  single  bond,'' 
probably  "  a  bond  with  your 
own  signature,  without  the 
names    of    sureties " ;    I.    iii. 

145. 

Slubber,  "to  slur  over";  II. 
viii.  39. 

Smug,  neat;  III.  i.  47. 

So,  provided  that;  III.  ii.  196. 

Sola,  sola;  "  Launcelot  is  imi- 
tating the  horn  of  the  courier 
or  post  "  ;  V.  i.  39. 

Something,  somewhat;  I.  i.  125. 

Sonties;  "by  God's  s.,"  i.e.  "by 
God's  dear  saints  "  ;  sonties 
=  "saunties "  a  diminutive 
form ;  II.   ii.  46. 

Soon  at,  about ;  II.  iii.  5. 

Sore,  sorely;  V.  i.  307. 

Sort,  dispose ;  V.  i.  132. 

Sort,  lottery;  I.  ii.   no. 

Spend,  waste;  I.  i.  154. 

Squandered,  scattered  ;   I.  iii.  21. 

Stead,  help ;  I.  iii.  7. 

Still,  continually;  I.  i.  17;  I.  i. 

137- 

Straight,  straightway;  II.  ix.  1. 

Strange;  "exceeding  strange," 
quite  strangers ;  I.  i.  67. 

Stroud,  strand;  I.  i.  172. 

Substance,  (?)  weight;  IV.  i. 
328. 

Suited,  apparelled ;  I.  ii.  78. 

Supposed,  spurious,  false ;  III. 
ii.  94. 

Supposition,  the  subject  of  con- 
jecture; I.  iii.  16. 


Table  (see  Notes)  ;  II.  ii.  162. 
Think,  bethink;  IV.  i.  70. 
Thrift,   success,   good  fortune: 

I.  i.  176;  profits;  I.  iii.  50. 
Time,      "  springtime      of     life, 

youth,  manhood  "  ;  I.  i.  130. 
Torch-bearer;  II.  iv.  5  (cp.  the 

following  illustration). 


From  'Latryumphante.. . entree faicte 
sur  le  .  -  .  advenement  de  .  .  .  prince. 
Charles  des  Hespaignes  1  i.e.  Emperor 
Charles  V.) ...  en  sa  ville  de  Bruges' 
(i5i5)- 

Trancct  (so  the  Quartos  and 
Folios),  probably  an  error 
for  Fr.  traject  (It.  traghet- 
to),  "a  ferrie "  (so  glossed 
by  Cotgrave)  ;  it  is,  how- 
ever noteworthy  that  in  Ital- 
ian tranare  means  to  draw  or 
drag.  "  Twenty  miles  from 
Padua,  on  the  River  Brenta, 
there  is  a  dam  or  sluice  to 
prevent  the  water  of  that 
river  from  mixing  with  that 
of  the  marshes  of  Venice. 
Here  the  passage-boat  is 
drawn  out  of  the  river,  and 


125 


Glossary 


THE  MERCHANT 


lifted  over  the  dam  by  a 
crane.  From  hence  to  Venice 
this  distance  is  five  miles. 
Perhaps  some  novel-writer 
of  Shakespeare's  time  might 
have  called  this  dam  by  the 
name  of  'tranect'"  (Ma- 
lone)  ;  III.  iv.  53. 

Tricksy,  tricky;  III.  v.  74. 

Tripolis,  Tripoli,  the  most  east- 
ern of  the  Barbary  States, 
the  market  between  Europe 
and  Central  Africa;  I.  iii.  17. 

Trust,  credit ;  I.  i.  186. 

Tucket,  flourish  on  a  trumpet; 
V.  i.  121. 

Undervalued,  inferior ;  I.  i.  166. 

Unfurnish'd,  unmatched  with 
the  other,  destitute  of  its  fel- 
low; III.  ii.  126. 

Untread,  retrace ;  II.  vi.  10. 

Usance,  usury,  interest;  I.  iii. 
45. 


Use;  "in  use,"  i.e.  (probably) 
"in  trust"  {i.e.  in  trust  for 
Shylock  during  his  life,  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  it  at 
his  death  to  Lorenzo)  ;  IV. 
i.  383. 

Vailing,  bending;  I.  i.  28. 
Varnish' d,  painted;  II.  v.  33. 
Vasty,  vast;  II.  vii.  41. 
Very,  true,  real;  III.  ii.  224. 
Virtue,  efficacy ;  V.  i.  199. 

Waft,  wafted;  V.  i.  11. 
Wealth,  welfare;  V.  i.  249. 
Weather,  storms ;  II.  ix.  29. 
Where,  whereas;  IV.  i.  22. 
While,  time;  II.  i.  31. 
Wilful  stillness,  dogged  silence ; 
90. 

Younker,  young  man,  youth; 
II.  vi.  14. 


126 


OF  VENICE 


Critical  Notes. 

BY   ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ. 

The  name  '  Shylock  '  may  have  been  derived  by  Shakespeare 
from  a  pamphlet  called  'Caleb  Shillocke  his  prophecie,  or  the 
Jewes  Prediction' ;  the  Pepysian  ballad  on  this  subject  belongs  to 
the  year  1607 ;  to  the  same  year  belongs  a  prose  piece  printed  at 
the  end  of  a  rare  tract  called  '  A  Jewes  Prophecie,  or  Newes  from 
Rome  of  two  mighty  armies,  etc!  Its  ultimate  origin  is  unknown; 
it  may  have  been  an  Italian  name  Scialocca.  According  to 
Hunter,  Scialac  was  the  name  of  a  Maronite  of  Mount  Libanus, 
who  was  living  in  1614.  It  has  recently  been  maintained,  with 
some  probability,  that  the  name  was  perhaps  suggested  by 
"  Shelah  "  in  the  genealogical  lists  given  in  Genesis,  chapter  xi. ; 
(cp.  Tubal,  Jessica,  evidently  chosen  because  of  their  Biblical 
associations). 

I.  1.  27.  '  dock'd ' ;  Rowe's  emendation  for  '  docks,'  the  reading 
of  the  Quartos  and  Folios. 

I.  i.  113.  'Is  that  any  thing  new?'  The  old  editions  read  'Is 
that  any  thing  now';  changed  to  'new'  by  Johnson.  Rowe  first 
suggested  the  interrogation. 

I.  ii.  82.  "the  Scottish  lord';  in  the  first  Folio  'Scottish'  is 
changed  to  '  other.' 

I.  ii.  87.  'Alluding  to  the  constant  assistance,  or  rather,  con- 
stant promises  of  assistance,  that  the  French  gave  the  Scots  in 
their  quarrels  with  the  English'  (Warburton). 

I.  ii.  132.  '  The  four  strangers' ;  allusion  has  been  made  to  six 
strangers.    An  interesting  oversight  on  the  Poet's  part. 

I.  iii.  64.  '  Is  he  yet  possess' d  How  much  ye  would,'  so  read  the 
second  and  third  Quartos ;  the  Folios  read  '  he  would  ' ;  the  first 
Quarto,  '  are  you  resolv'd  how  much  he  would  have ' ;  this  is  one 
of  the  important  points  in  which  the  second  Quarto  is  superior 
to  the  first. 

I.  iii.  71.   Cp   Genesis  xxx. 

I.  iii.  74.  '  the  third,'  i.e.  '  reckoning  Abraham  himself  as  the 
first.' 

127 


Notes 


THE  MERCHANT 


I.  iii.  134.  'A  breed  for  barren  metal'  the  reading  of  the 
Quartos;  Folios,  'a  breed  of;  'for'  must  be  equivalent  to  'in 
exchange  for  ' ;  '  breed  '  =  '  interest  money  bred  from  the  prin- 
cipal' {cp.  Gr.  TOK(%). 

II.  i.  The  old  stage  direction  ran  as  follows: — 'Enter  Morochus 
a  tawnie  Moore  all  in  white,  and  three  or  foure  followers,  ac- 
cordingly, with  Portia,  Nerissa  and  their  traine! 

II.  i.  25.  '  the  Sophy'  cp.  "  Soli,  and  SoUto,  an  ancient  word 
signifying  a  wise  man,  learned  and  skillful  in  Magike  Naturale. 
It  is  grown  to  be  the  common  name  of  the  Emperour  of  Persia  " 
(Abraham  Tartwell's  translation  of  Minadoi's  History  of  the 
Wars  between  the  Turks  and  the  Persians). 

The  '  Sen  of  Persia '  is  mentioned  in  the  German  play  Der  Jude 
von  Venedig. 

II.  i.  35.  'page';  Theobald's  emendation  for  'rage,'  the  reading 
of  all  the  old  editions. 

II.  ii.  1.  'will  serve  me';  Halliwell,  'the  particle  not  .  .  . 
seems  essential  to  the  sense  of  what  follows:' 

II.  ii.  93.   Gobbo's  '  you/  as  a  mark  of  respect,  changes  to  '  thou,' 
after  the  recognition. 
•  II.  ii.  162-4.    According  to  Staunton,  the  table  line,  or  line  of 


r\ 

P 

1  f\ 

sj 

' i^  j 

f^\  ^ 

J  j  l 

SSIy 

1  §§§1 

/mf^^m 

Table. 
From  a  XVth  Cent.  MS.  in  the 
possession  of  the  late  T.  O. 
Halliwell-  Phi  llipps. 


Line  of  Life. 

From  Dr.  Trotter's  ForUi7ie  Book, 

1708. 


fortune,  is  the  line  running  from  the  forefinger,  below  the  other 
three  fingers,  to  the  side  of  the  hand.     The  natural  line  is  the  line 

128 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

which  curves  in  a  different  direction,  through  the  middle  of  the 
palm ;  and  the  line  of  life  is  the  circular  line  surrounding  the  ball 
of  the  thumb.  The  space  between  the  two  former  lines  is  techni- 
cally known  as  the  table.  "  Long  and  deep  lines  from  the  Mount 
of  Venus  (the  ball  of  the  thumb)  towards  the  line  of  life,  sig- 
nifieth  so  many  wives.  .  .  .  These  lines  visible  and  deep,  so 
many  wives  the  party  shall  have  "  (Saunder's  Chiromancie,  quoted 
by  Halliwell). 

II.  iii.  12.  'did';  the  Quartos  and  first  Folio  read  'doe';  the 
reading  '  did '  was  given  in  the  second  Folio ;  if  this  is  adopted, 
'  get '  =  '  beget.' 

II.  v.  25.  '  Black-Monday/  i.e.  Easter  Monday,  so  called,  be- 
cause of  a  storm  which  occurred  on  April  14,  1360,  being  Easter 
Monday,  when  Edward  III.  was  lying  with  his  army  before  Paris, 
and  when  many  of  his  men-at-arms  died  of  cold  (Stowe). 

II.  v.  36.  'Jacob's  staff';  cp.  Gen.  xxxii.  10,  and  Heb.  xi.  21. 
'  A  Jacob's  staff '  was  generally  used  in  the  sense  of  '  a  pilgrim's 
staff,'  because  St.  James  (or  Jacob)  was  the  patron  saint  of 
pilgrims. 

II.  v.  43.  '  a  Jewess'  eye ' ;  the  Quartos  and  Folios  read  '  a 
J  ewes  eye'  probably  pronounced  '  Jezves ' ;  '  worth  a  Jew's  eye  ' 
was  a  proverbial  phrase :  '  that  worth  was  the  price  which  the 
Jews  paid  for  immunity  from  mutilation  and  death.'  The  read- 
ing '  Jewess' '  seems  very  doubtful. 

II.  vi.  51.  c  by  my  hood';  this  phrase  is  found  nowhere  else  in 
Shakespeare;  according  to  Malone,  Gratiano  is  in  a  masqued 
habit,  to  which  it  is  probable  that  formerly,  as  at  present,  a  large 
cape  or  hood  was  affixed. 

II.  vii.  41.  'The  Hyrcanian  deserts';  Shakespeare  three  times 
mentions  the  tigers  of  Hyrcania,  '  the  name  given  to  a  district  of 
indefinite  extent  south  of  the  Caspian,'  where,  according  to  Pliny, 
tigers  were  bred. 

II.  vii.  53.  'undervalued' ;  "in  the  beginning  of  Elizabeth's 
reign,  gold  was  to  silver  in  the  proportion  of  11  to  1 ;  in  the  forty- 
third  year  of  her  reign  it  was  in  the  proportion  of  10  to  1  " 
(Clarendon). 

II.  vii.  69.  'tombs  do';  Johnson's  emendation  for  the  old  read- 
ing '  timber  do.' 

II.  vii.  75.  Halliwell  notes  that  this  line  is  a  paraphrastical 
inversion  of  the  common  old  proverb :  '  Farewell,  frost,'  which 
was  used  in  the  absence  or  departure  of  anything  that  was  un- 
welcome or  displeasing. 

129 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

III.  i.  io.  'knapped  ginger' ;  perhaps  'to  knap  ginger'  is  to 
'  nibble  ginger ' ;  old  women  were  fond  of  this  condiment :  Cot- 
grave  invariably  gives  '  knap  '  as  a  synonym  of  '  gnaw '  or  '  nibble.' 

III.  i.  71.  '  humility/  rightly  explained  by  Schmidt  as  '  kindness, 
benevolence,  humanity.' 

III.  i.  122.  The  special  value  of  the  '  turquoise '  was  its  sup- 
posed virtue  in  indicating  the  health  of  the  wearer :  it  was  said  to 
brighten  or  fade  as  its  wearer  was  well  or  ill,  and  to  give  warning 
of  approaching  danger. 

III.  ii  54.  'more  love';  because  Hercules  rescued  Hesione  not 
for  love  of  the  lady,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  horses  promised  him 
by  Laomedon. 

III.  ii.  99.  '  Veiling  an  Indian  beauty' ;  it  has  been  pointed  out 
that  Montaigne  in  his  Essay  on  '  Beauty '  says :  "  The  Indians 
describe  it  black  and  swarthy,  with  blabbered  thick  lips,  with  a 
broad  and  flat  nose."  If  Shakespeare  gives  us  a  reminiscence  of 
this,  he  must  have  read  Montaigne  in  French,  as  Florio's  transla- 
tion was  not  published  until  1603. 

III.  ii.  102.  'Hard  food  for  Midas/  who  prayed  that  everything 
he  touched  might  turn  to  gold,  and  soon  regretted  his  prayer. 

III.  ii.  106.  'paleness' ;  as  Bassanio  uses  'pale'  of  silver  a  few 
lines  before,  Theobald,  on  Warburton's  suggestion,  proposed  to 
read  'plainness' ;  but  'pale'  is  a  regular  epithet  of  lead,  and  there 
seems  no  reason  for  changing  the  reading  here. 

III.  ii.  112.  'rain/  so  Folios  1,  2  and  Quarto  2;  the  reading  of 
the  third  and  fourth  Quartos  '  rein '  is  generally  preferred ; 
Quarto  1  'range.' 

III.  iv.  63.  '  accoutred/  so  Folios  and  later  Quartos ;  Quarto  1 
'  apparreld/  in  some  respects  the  preferable  reading. 

III.  v.  79,  80.  'And  if  on  earth  he  do  not  mean  it,  then  In 
reasons';  the  second  Quarto  'it,  it';  the  Folios  'it,  it  is.' 

Various  emendations  have  been  suggested  for  '  mean/  but  no 
change  is  necessary,  though  no  satisfactory  explanation  has  hith- 
erto been  advanced.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that,  with  Prof. 
Skeat's  kind  assistance,  the  difficulty  may  be  now  removed; 
'  mean  it '  =  mean,  like  '  foot  it,'  '  trip  it ' ;  and  mean  =  moan  (cp. 
Midsummer-Night' s  Dream,  v.  i.  330).  The  sense  of  the  line  is 
clearly,  if  he  don't  cry  now,  he  can't  expect  to  sing  hereafter. 

IV.  i.  36.  '  our  holy  Sabbath ' ;  so  the  first  Quarto ;  the  second 
reads  '  Sabaoth' ;  it  is  just  possible  that  Shakespeare  might  have 
been  misled  by  the  expression,  '  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth,'  which 
occurs  in  the  New  Testament.     '  Sabbath '  and   '  Sabaoth  '    {i.e. 

130 


OF  VENICE 


Notes 


'  hosts,'  in  the  phrase  '  Lord  of  hosts  ')  were  confused  even  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  when  in  Ivanhoe,  ch.  x.,  he  refers  to  "  the  gains  of 
a  week,  aye  the  space  between  two  Sabaoths."  Similarly  Spenser 
(F.  Q.  vii.2)  — 

'  But  thenceforth  all  shall  rest  eternally 
With  him  that  is  the  God  of  Sabaoth  hight! 

Dr.  Johnson  treated  the  two  words  as  identical  in  the  first  edition 
of  his  Dictionary. 

IV.  i.  49.  '  the  bagpipe  sings  i'  the  nose.'  See  illustrations  to 
/.  56. 

IV.  i.  50.  '  affection,  Mistress  of  passion ' ;  the  Quartos  and 
Folios  read  'affection.  Masters  of  passion.'  The  reading  now 
generally  adopted  was  first  suggested  by  Thirlby;  '  Maistres'  or 
'  mastres'  the  old  spelling  of  '  mistress',  evidently  produced  the 
error.  '  Affection,'  when  contrasted  with'  '  passion/  seems  to  de- 
note 'emotions  produced  through  the  senses  by  external  objects.' 

IV.  i.  56.  '  a  woollen  bagpipe ' ;  the  reading  of  all  the  old 
editions ;  '  wawling,'  '  swollen,'  '  bollen,'  have  been  variously  sug- 


A  bagpiper  of  XlVth  Cent. 

From  an  illumination  in  the  Luterell 

Psalter. 


A  bagpiper  of  XVIIth  Cent. 
From  a  black-letter  ballad. 


gested;  'woollen'  probably  refers  to  the  covering  of  the  wind- 
bag. 

IV.  i.  184.  Cp.  '  Mercy  is  seasonable  in  the  time  of  affliction,  as 
clouds  of  rain  in  the  time  of  drought,'  Ecclesiasticus,  xxxv.  20. 


131 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

IV.  i.  255.  'Are  there  balance';  'balance'  was  frequently- 
treated  as  a  plural  by  Elizabethan  writers,  though  this  is  the  only 
instance  in  Shakespeare. 

IV.  i.  451.  ' command ement'  so  Quartos  and  Folios:  clearly  to 
be  pronounced  as  quadrisyllable,  Cambridge  edition  '  command- 
ment! 

V.  i.  4.  'Troilus';  the  image  is  from  Chauncer's  Troilus  and 
Cresseide;  "Upon  the  wallis  fast  eke  would  he  walke "  (Bk. 
v.  666). 

V.  i.  7-14.  Tliisbe,  etc.;  Hunter  (New  Illustrations,  I.  309) 
ingeniously  suggests  that  the  old  Folio  of  Chaucer  was  lying 
open  before  Shakespeare  when  he  wrote  this  dialogue,  and  that 
there  he  found  Thisbe,  Dido,  and  Medea,  as  well  as  Troilus.  It 
is  certainly  striking  that  Thisbe,  Dido,  and  Medea  follow  each 
other  in  the  'Legend  of  Good  Women.'  Shakespeare  has  seem- 
ingly transferred  to  Dido  what  he  found  in  Chaucer's  Legend 
concerning  Ariadne  ('And  to  the  stronde  barefote  faste  she  went' 
— 'And  turne  agayne,  and  on  the  stronde  hire  fynde').  Chaucer's 
Medea  directed  Shakespeare's  mind  to  Ovid,  Metam.  vii. 

V.  i.  15.  'Jessica';  Medea,  who  stole  away  from  her  father, 
/Eetes,  with  the  golden  fleece,  suggests  Jessica's  own  story  to 
Lorenzo. 

V.  i.  61,  etc.  "  The  corresponding  passage  in  Plato  is  in  his 
tenth  book  De  Republica,  where  he  speaks  of  the  harmony  of  the 
Spheres,  and  represents  a  syren  sitting  on  each  of  the  eight  orbs, 
and  singing  to  each  in  its  proper  tone,  while  they  are  thus  guided 
through  the  heavens,  and  consent  in  a  diapason  of  perfect  har- 
mony, the  Fates  themselves  chanting  to  this  celestial  music " 
(Du  Bois,  The  Wreath,  p.  60.  quoted  by  Furness).  The  Platonic 
doctrine  is,  however,  blended  with  reminiscences  of  Job  xxxviii.  7, 
"  The  morning  stars  sang  together." 

V.  i.  65.  '  close  it  in ' ;  Quarto  1  and  Folios  read  '  in  it'  which 
some  editors  have  taken  as  equivalent  to  '  close-in  it.' 

V.  i.  149.  'Like  cutler's  poetry  Upon  a  knife.'  Cp.  accompany- 
ing illustration. 


^^ff*2>  ntte  met  ho!jc  wrorij&hej ( 
— •*  Z^iltt  (Hi  bottowers'Spoe &luvz  WSjj$}$ 


From  an  inscribed  knife  of  the  XVIIth  Cent.    Discovered  at  Norwich. 
I32 


OF  VENICE 


Notes 


V.  i.  193.  A  similar  repetition  of  the  word  '  love '  at  the  end  of 
ten  consecutive  lines  is  found  in  '  The  Fayre  Mayde  of  ike 
Exchange'  (1607);  cp.  Edward  III.,  Act  II.  Sc.  i.,  where  'the 
sun '  ends  eight  consecutive  lines. 


'  Two-headed  Janus? 
From  an  antique  engraved  in  Montfaucon. 


(I.  i.  50.) 


133 


THE  MERCHANT 


Explanatory  Notes, 


The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Alalone,  Steevens,  •  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 


ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

[Enter  Antonio,  etc.]  In  the  old  copies  there  is  much  confusion 
in  the  printing  of  these  names,  especially  in  this  first  Scene ;  and 
as  no  list  of  the  persons  is  there  given,  we  are  not  a  little  puzzled 
how  to  put  them.  In  the  Folio  the  first  stage  direction  is,  Enter 
Antonio,  Salarino,  and  Salanio.  In  the  dialogue,  however,  the 
abbreviation  for  Salanio  presently  becomes  Sola.,  which  is  soon 
changed  to  Sol.,  and  then  comes  the  stage  direction,  Exeunt  Sala- 
rino, and  Solanio.  And  the  names  are  spelt  the  same  way  in 
several  other  stage  directions ;  and  after  the  first  Scene  the  abbre- 
viated prefixes  to  the  speeches  uniformly  are  Sal.  and  Sol.  So 
that  some  editors  hold  that  there  is  abundant  authority  for  reading 
Solanio  instead  of  Salanio,  as  it  is  in  most  modern  editions.  As 
to  the  distribution  of  the  first  few  speeches,  we  have  to  go  partly 
by  conjecture,  the  names  being  so  perplexed  as  to  afford  no  sure 
guidance.  The  last  two  speeches  before  the  entrance  of  Bassanio, 
which  are  usually  assigned  to  Salanio,  several  editors  transfer  to 
Salarino,  not  only  because  he  is  the  more  lively  and  talkative 
person,  but  as  according  best  with  the  general  course  of  the  dia- 
logue and  with  his  avowed  wish  to  make  Antonio  merry,  and 
especially  because  the  Quartos  favor  that  arrangement. 

9.  Argosies  are  large  ships  either  for  merchandise  or  for  war. 
The  name  was  probably  derived  from  the  classical  ship  Argo, 
which  carried  Jason  and  the  Argonauts  in  quest  of  the  golden 

134 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

fleece.     Readers  of  Milton  will  of  course  remember  the  passage 
describing  Satan's  voyage  through  chaos : — 

"  Harder  beset 
And  more  endanger'd  than  when  Argo  pass'd 
Through  Bosphorus  betwixt  the  justling  rocks." 

28.  To  vail  is  to  lower,  to  let  fall.  The  Venetian  merchants,  it 
would  seem,  were  much  used  to  name  their  ships  for  Andrea 
Doria,  the  great  Genoese  admiral. 

97.  when,  I  am  very  sure : — All  the  old  copies  read  when  here ; 
and  as  in  such  cases  the  Poet  often  leaves  the  subject  of  a  verb 
understood,  the  changing  of  when  into  who,  though  common,  is 
hardly  admissible.  The  following  lines  apparently  refer  to  the 
judgement  pronounced  in  the  Gospel  against  him  who  "  says  to  his 
brother,  Thou  fool."  The  meaning,  therefore,  is,  that  if  those 
who  "only  are  reputed  wise  for  saying  nothing"  should  go  to  talk- 
ing, they  would  be  apt  to  damn  their  hearers,  by  provoking  them 
to  utter  this  foul  reproach. 

102.  Fool  gudgeon  appears  to  mean  such  a  fish  as  any  fool  might 
catch,  or  none  but  fools  would  care  to  catch.  Gudgeon  was  the 
name  of  a  small  fish  very  easily  caught. 

no.  Gear,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  gearwe,  and  originally  mean- 
ing any  thing  prepared  or  made  ready,  was  formerly  used  for  any 
matter  or  business  in  hand.  Thus,  in  an  old  ballad,  entitled  The 
Merry  Puck,  or  Robin  Good  fellow : — 

"  Now  Robin  Goodfellow,  being  plac'd  with  a  tailor,  as  you  heare, 
He  grew  a  workman  in  short  space,  so  well  he  ply'd  his  geare." 

161.  Prest,  meaning  prompt,  ready,  is  from  an  old  French  word. 
Thus  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  iv.  8.  41 : — 

"  Who  as  he  gan  the  same  to  him  aread, 
Loe !   hard  behind  his  backe  his  foe  was  prest, 
With  dreadful  weapon  aymed  at  his  head." 

Scene  II. 

8,9.  Superfluity,  that  is,  one  who  has  riches  and  indulges  in 
high  living,  sooner  acquires  white  hairs,  becomes  old.  We  still 
say,  how  did  he  come  by  it? 

43.  a  colt: — A  play  on  colt,  also  used  for  a  wild  young  fellow^ 
whence  the  phrase  used  for  an  old  man  too  juvenile,  that  he  still 

135 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

retains  his  colt's  tooth.  The  Neapolitans,  in  the  time  of  Shake- 
speare, were  eminently  skilled  in  all  that  belongs  to  horsemanship. 

48.  County  Palatine: — This  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  Count 
Albertus  Alasco,  a  Polish  Palatine,  who  was  in  London  in  1583. 

52.  the  weeping  philosopher: — Heraclitus  of  Ephesus,  so  called 
in  contrast  to  Democritus,  "  the  laughing  philosopher." 

J2  et  seq.  "  A  satire  on  the  ignorance  of  young  English  travel- 
lers in  Shakespeare's  time."  So  says  Warburton ;  whereupon 
Knight  justly  remarks  that  "authors  are  not  much  in  the  habit  of 
satirizing  themselves ;  and  yet,  according  to  Farmer  and  his 
school,  Shakespeare  knew  '  neither  Latin,  French,  nor  Italian.'  " 

89,  90.  The  Duke  of  Bavaria  visited  London,  and  was  made  a 
Knight  of  the  Garter,  in  Shakespeare's  time.  Perhaps,  in  this 
enumeration  of  Portia's  suitors,  there  may  be  some  covert  allusion 
to  those  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

139.  condition: — Temper,  disposition.  So  in  Othello:  "And 
then  of  so  gentle  a  condition !  "  Likewise,  in  Tyndale's  Works : 
"  Let  every  man  have  his  wyfe,  and  thinke  her  the  fayrest  and  the 
best  conditioned,  and  every  woman  her  husband  so  too." 

Scene  III. 

21.  Squandered  is  not  to  be  taken  in  a  bad  sense  here ;  it  means 
simply  scattered,  dispersed.  Thus,  in  Howell's  Letters:  "The 
Duke  of  Savoy,  though  he  pass  for  one  of  the  princes  of  Italy, 
yet  the  least  part  of  his  territories  lie  there,  being  squander 'd  up 
and  down  amongst  the  Alps."  And,  again,  he  speaks  of  the  Jews 
as  a  people  "  squander' d  all  the  earth  over." 

45.  usance: — "It  is  almost  incredible  what  gain  the  Venetians 
receive  by  the  usury  of  the  Jews,  both  privately  and  in  common. 
For  in  every  city  the  Jews  keep  open  shops  of  usury,  taking  gages 
of  ordinary  for  fifteen  in  the  hundred  by  the  yeare ;  and  if  at  the 
year's  end  the  gage  be  not  redeemed,  it  is  forfeit,  or  at  least  done 
away  to  a  great  disadvantage;  by  reason  whereof  the  Jews  are 
out  of  measure  wealthy  in  those  parts." — Thomas's  History  of 
Italy,  1 56 1. 

51.  Which  he  calls  interest: — Usance,  usury,  and  interest  were 

all  terms  of  precisely  the   same   import   in   Shakespeare's  time; 

there  being  then  no  such  law  or  custom  whereby  usury  has  since 

ficome  to  mean  the  taking  of  interest  above  a  certain  rate.     How 

the  taking  of  interest,  at  whatsoever  rate,  was  commonly  esteemed, 

136 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

is  shown  in  Lord  Bacon's  essay  Of  Usury,  where  he  mentions  the 
popular  arguments  against  it :  "  That  the  usurer  is  the  greatest 
Sabbath-breaker,  because  his  plough  goeth  every  Sunday ;  that  the 
usurer  breaketh  the  first  law  that  was  made  for  mankind  after  the 
fall,  which  was,  '  in  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread ' ; 
that  usurers  should  have  orange-tawny  bonnets,  because  they  do 
Judaize ;  that  it  is  against  nature  for  money  to  beget  money,  and 
the  like."  The  words  in  Italic  show  that  usury  was  regarded  as 
a  badge  of  Judaism. 

85.  the  deed  of  kind: — Kind  in  Shakespeare's  time  was  often 
used  for  nature.    Thus  in  Fairfax's  Tasso,  xiv.  42,  48: — 

"  But  of  all  herbs,  of  every  spring  and  well, 
The  hidden  power  I  know  and  virtue  great, 
And  all  that  kind  hath  hid  from  mortal  sight." 


"  And  fair  adorn'd  was  every  part 
With  riches  grown  by  kind,  not  fram'd  by  art." 

107.  In  this  Scene  we  have  already  had  "  on  the  Rialto,"  and 
"upon  the  Rialto."  Concerning  the  place  meant  Rogers  thus 
speaks  in  one  of  the  notes  to  his  poem  on  Italy :  "  Rialto  is  the 
name,  not  of  the  bridge,  but  of  the  island  from  which  it  is  called, 
and  the  Venetians  say  il  ponte  di  Rialto,  as  we  say  Westminster 
bridge.  In  that  island  is  the  exchange ;  and  I  have  often  walked 
there  as  on  classic  ground.  In  the  days  of  Antonio  and  Bassanio 
it  was  second  to  none.  It  was  there  that  the  Christian  held  dis- 
course with  the  Jew ;  and  Shylock  refers  to  it  when  he  says : — 

'  Signior  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oft 
In  the  Rialto  you  have  rated  me.'  " 

Mr.  Knight  says  the  "  name  is  derived  from  riva  alta,  high  shore, 
and  its  being  larger,  and  somewhat  more  elevated  than  the  others, 
accounts  for  its  being  first  inhabited.  The  most  ancient  church  of 
the  city  is  there,  and  there  were  erected  the  buildings  for  the 
magistracy  and  commerce  of  the  infant  settlement." 

175.  Fearful  guard  is  a  guard  that  is  not  to  be  trusted,  but  gives 
cause  of  fear.  To  fear  was  anciently  to  give  as  well  as  feel 
terrors. 


137 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

ACT  SECOND. 
*  Scene  I. 

6.  let  us  make  incision,  etc. : — To  understand  how  the  tawny 
prince,  whose  savage  dignity  is  well  supported,  means  to  recom- 
mend himself  by  this  challenge,  it  must  be  remembered  that  red 
blood  is  a  traditionary  sign  of  courage.  Thus  Macbeth  calls  his 
frightened  servant  a  lily  liver' d  boy;  again,  in  this  play,  cowards 
are  said  to  have  livers  white  as  milk ;  and  an  effeminate  man  is 
termed  a  milksop. 

Scene  II. 

12.  for  the  heavens: — A  petty  oath.  To  make  the  fiend  conjure 
Launcelot  to  do  a  thing  for  heaven's  sake,  is  a  specimen  of  that 
"  acute  nonsense  "  which  Barrow  makes  one  of  the  species  of  wit, 
and  which  Shakespeare  was  sometimes  very  fond  of. 

57.  Your  worship's  friend,  and  Launcelot: — So  in  Love's  La- 
bour 's  Lost,  Costard  says :  "  Your  servant  and  Costard."  It  ap- 
pears that  old  Gobbo  himself  was  named  Launcelot :  hence  in  the 
next  speech  Launcelot  junior  beseeches  him  to  talk  of  young 
Master  Launcelot.  The  sense  here  is  commonly  defeated  by 
making  the  speech  interrogative.  The  reader  will  of  course  see 
that  Launcelot  senior  scruples  to  give  his  son  the  title  of  Master. 

105.  /  have  set  up  my  rest: — That  is,  determined.  In  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  IV.  v.,  Shakespeare  has  again  quibbled  upon  rest. 
"The  County  Paris  hath  set  up  his  rest,  that  you  shall  rest  but 
little." 

112,  113.  run  as  far,  etc.: — To  understand  the  appropriateness 
of  these  words,  we  must  remember  that  in  Venice  it  was  not  easy 
to  find  ground  enough  to  run  upon. 

139.  a  dish  of  doves: — There  has  been  no  little  speculation 
among  the  later  critics  whether  Shakespeare  ever  visited  Italy. 
C.  A.  Brown  argues  strongly  that  he  did,  and  refers  to  this  pas- 
sage among  others  in  proof  of  it.  His  argument  runs  thus : 
"  Where  did  he  obtain  his  numerous  graphic  touches  of  national 
manners?  where  did  he  learn  of  an  old  villager's  coming  into  the 
city  with  'a  dish  of  doves'  as  a  present  to  his  son's  master?  A 
present  thus  given,  and  in  our  days  too,  and  of  doves,  is  not  un- 
common in  Italy.  I  myself  have"  partaken  there,  with  due  relish, 
in  memory  of  poor  old  Gobbo,  of  a  dish  of  doves,  presented  by  the 

138 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

father  of  a  servant."  To  the  same  purpose  this  ingenious  writer 
quotes  other  passages,  as  inferring  such  a  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try as  could  hardly  have  been  gained  from  books.  Of  course  it 
does  not  follow  but  that  the  Poet  may  have  gained  it  by  con- 
versing with  other  travellers;  and  it  is  well  known  that  Kemp,  a 
fellow  actor,  visited  Italy. 

161.  et  seq.  Well,  if  any  man,  etc. : — Mr.  Tyrwhitt  thus  explains 
this  passage :  "  Launcelot,  applauding  himself  for  his  success  with 
Bassanio,  and  looking  into  the  palm  of  his  hand,  which  by  fortune- 
tellers is  called  the  tabic,  breaks  out  into  the  following  reflection: 
'  Well,  if  any  man  in  Italy  have  a  fairer  table !  which  doth  offer 
to  swear  upon  a  book,  I  shall  have  good  fortune ' — that  is,  a 
table  which  doth  not  only  promise  but  offer  to  swear  upon  a  book 
that  I  shall  have  good  fortune.  He  omits  the  conclusion  of  the 
sentence."  Launcelot  was  an  adept  in  the  art  of  chiromancy, 
which  in  his  time  had  its  learned  professors  and  practitioners  no 
less  than  astrology.  Relics  of  this  superstition  have  floated  down 
to  our  day.  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  see  people  trying  to 
study  out  their  fortune  from  the  palms  of  their  hands.  Launcelot 
Gobbo,  however,  was  more  highly  favoured  than  they;  in  1558 
was  put  forth  a  book  by  John  Indagine,  entitled  Brief  Introduc- 
tions, both  natural,  pleasant,  and  also  delectable,  unto  the  Art  of 
Chiromancy,  or  manual  divination,  and  Physiognomy:  with  cir- 
cumstances upon  the  faces  of  the  Signes.  "  A  simple  line  of  life  " 
written  in  the  palm  was  cause  of  exultation  to  wiser  ones  than 
young  Gobbo.  His  huge  complacency,  as  he  spells  out  his  fortune, 
is  in  laughable  keeping  with  his  general  skill  at  finding  causes  to 
think  well  of  himself. 

198,  199.  hood  mine  eyes,  etc. : — It  was  the  custom  to  wear  the 
hat  during  the  time  of  dinner. 

Scene  V. 

24,25.  it  was  not  for  nothing,  etc.: — Bleeding  at  the  nose  was 
anciently  considered  ominous. 

30.  There  has  been  some  dispute  whether  zvry-neck'd  fife  mean 
the  instrument  or  the  musician.  Boswell  cited  a  passage  from 
Barnabe  Rich's  Aphorisms,  1618,  which  appears  to  settle  the  mat- 
ter: "A  fife  is  a  wry-neckt  musician,  for  he  always  looks  away 
from  his  instrument." 


139 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

Scene  VI. 

5.  Johnson  thought  that  lovers,  who  are  sometimes  called  tur- 
tles or  doves  in  poetry,  were  meant  by  Venus's  pigeons.  The  al- 
lusion, however,  seems  to  be  to  the  doves  by  which  Venus's 
chariot  was  drawn. 

51.  A  jest  arising  from  the  ambiguity  of  Gentile,  which  signifies 
both  a  heathen  and  one  well  born. 

Scene  VII. 

56,  57.  an  angel  .  .  .  insculp'd  upon  : — This  is  the  angel  re- 
ferred to  by  Falstaff  in  his  interview  with  the  Chief  Justice : 
"Not  so,  my  lord;  your  ill  angel  is  light."  It  appears  to  have 
been  the  national  coin  in  Shakespeare's  time.  The  custom  of 
stamping  an  angel  upon  the  coin  is  thus  explained  by  Verstegan  in 
his  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence :  "  The  name  of  Engel  is 
yet  at  this  present  in  all  the  Teutonic  tongues  as  much  as  to  say, 
an  Angel ;  and  if  a  Dutchman  be  asked  how  he  would  in  his 
language  call  an  Angel-like-man,  he  would  answer,  ein  English- 
man. And  such  reason  and  consideration  may  have  moved  our 
former  kings,  upon  their  best  coin  of  pure  and  fine  gold,  to  set 
the  image  of  an  angel,  which  hath  as  well  been  used  before  the 
Norman  Conquest,  as  since."  Readers  of  Wordsworth  will  be 
apt  to  remember,  in  this  connection,  a  fine  passage  in  one  of  his 
Ecclesiastical  Sonnets: — 

"  A  bright-haired  company  of  youthful  slaves, 
Beautiful  strangers,  stand  within  the  pale 
Of  a  sad  market,  ranged  for  public  sale, 
Where  Tiber's  stream  the  immortal  City  laves : 
Angli  by  name ;  and  not  an  Angel  waves 
His  wing,  who  could  seem  lovelier  to  man's  eye 
Than  they  appear  to  holy  Gregory ; 
Who,  having  learnt  that  name,  salvation  craves 
For  Them  and  for  their  Land." 


Scene  VIII. 

39.  Slubber  not  business: — To  slubber  is  to  do  a  thing  care- 
lessly.   Thus,  in  Fuller's  Worthies  of  Yorkshire :    "  Slightly  slub- 

140 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

bering  it  over,  doing  something  for  show,  and  nothing  to  pur- 
pose."    Likewise,  in  Song  21  of  Drayton's  Polyolbion : — 

"  Not  such  as  basely  soothe  the  humour  of  the  time, 
And  slubberingly  patch  up  some  slight  and  shallow  rhyme." 

Scene  IX. 

78.  Wroth  is  used  in  some  of  the  old  writers  for  suffering.  So 
in  Chapman's  22d  Iliad:  "  Born  all  to  wroth  of  woe  and  labour." 
But  indeed  the  original  meaning  of  wrath  is  pain,  grief,  anger, 
anything  that  makes  one  writhe ;  and  the  text  but  exemplifies  a 
common  form  of  speech,  putting  the  effect  for  the  cause. 

85.  my  lord? — A  humorous  reply  to  the  Servant's  "Where  is 
my  lady  ?  "  So  in  Richard  II.,  V.  v.,  a  groom  says  to  the  King, 
"Hail,  royal  prince !"  and  he  replies,  "Thanks,  noble  peerl" 
And  1  Henry  IV.,  II.  iv.,  the  Hostess  says  to  Prince  Henry, 
"  O  Jesu !  my  lord,  the  Prince !  "  and  he  replies,  "  How  now,  my 
lady,  the  hostess  !  " 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

122.  my  turquoise : — The  Turquoise  is  a  well  known  precious 
stone.  In  old  times  its  value  was  much  enhanced  by  the  magic 
properties  attributed  to  it  in  common  with  other  precious  stones, 
one  of  which  was  that  it  faded  or  brightened  its  hue  as  the  health 
of  the  wearer  increased  or  grew  less.  This  is  alluded  to  by  Ben 
Jonson  in  his  Sejanus :  "  And  true  as  Turkise  in  my  dear  lord's 
ring,  look  well  or  ill  with  him."  Other  virtues  were  also  imputed 
to  it.  Thomas  Nicols,  in  his  translation  of  Anselm  de  Boot's 
Lapidary,  says  this  stone  "  is  likewise  said  to  take  away  all  enmity, 
and  to  reconcile  man  and  wife."  This  quality  may  have  moved 
Leah  to  present  it  to  Shylock. 

Scene  II. 

15.  To  be  o'erlook'd  or  eye-bitten,  was  a  term  for  being  be- 
witched by  an  evil  eye.  It  is  used  again  in  The  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor,  V.  v. 

141 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

44.  a  swan-like  end : — Alluding  to  the  opinion  which  long  pre- 
vailed, that  the  swan  uttered  a  plaintive  musical  sound  at  the 
approach  of  death.  There  is  something  so  touching  in  this  an- 
cient superstition,  that  one  feels  loth  to  be  undeceived. 

87.  Excrement,  from  excrcsco,  is  used  for  everything  which  ap- 
pears to  grow  or  vegetate  upon  the  human  body,  as  the  hair,  the 
beard,  the  nails.     See  Love's  Labour 's  Lost,  V.  i. 

95,96.  the  dowry  .  .  .  sepulchre: — The  Poet  has  often  ex- 
pressed a  strong  dislike  of  the  custom,  then  in  vogue,  of  wearing 
false  hair.  See  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  II.  iii.  And  his  sixty- 
eighth  Sonnet  has  a  passage  very  like  that  in  the  text : — 

"  Thus  is  his  cheek  the  map  of  days  outworn, 
When  beauty  lived  and  died  as  flowers  do  now, 
Before  these  bastard  signs  of  fair  were  born, 
Or  durst  inhabit  on  a  living  brow ; 
Before  the  golden  tresses  of  the  dead, 
The  right  of  sepulchres,  were  shorn  away, 
To  live  a  second  life  on  second  head; 
Ere  beauty's  dead  fleece  made  another  gay." 

97.  Guiled  for  guiling,  that  is,  beguiling.  The  Poet  often  thus 
uses  the  passive  form  with  an  active  sense,  and  vice  versa.  In  Act 
I.  Sc.  iii.  of  this  play,  we  have  beholding  for  beholden.  See,  also, 
Measure  for  Measure,  III.  i. 

115.  Counterfeit  anciently  signified  a  likeness  or  portrait.  So  in 
The  Wit  of  a  Woman,  1634:  "I  will  see  if  I  can  agree  with  this 
stranger  for  the  drawing  of  my  daughter's  counterfeit."  And 
Hamlet  calls  the  pictures  he  shows  to  his  mother  "  the  counterfeit 
presentment  of  two  brothers." 

126.  unfurnish'd: — That  is,  unfurnished  with  a  companion  or 
fellow.  In  Fletcher's  Lover's  Progress,  Alcidon  says  to  Clarange, 
on  delivering  Lidian's  challenge,  which  Clarange  accepts : — 

"  You  are  a  noble  gentleman. 
Will 't  please  you  bring  a  friend?   we  are  two  of  us, 
And  pity  either,  sir,  should  be  unfurnish'd." 

The  hint  for  this  passage  appears  to  have  been  taken  from  Greene's 
History  of  Faire  Bellora,  afterwards  published  under  the  title  of 
A  Paire  of  Turtle  Doves :  "  If  Apelles  had  been  tasked  to  have 
drawne  her  counterfeit,  her  two  bright  burning  lampes  would  have 
so  dazzled  his  quick-seeing  sences,  that,  quite  despairing  to  ex- 
presse  with  his  cunning  pensill  so  admirable  a  worke  of  nature,  he 

142. 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

had  been  inforced  to  have  staid  his  hand,  and  left  this  earthly- 
Venus  unfinished." 

Scene  III. 

26  et  seq.  The  Duke  cannot  deny,  etc.: — For  the  due  under- 
standing of  this  passage,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind,  that  Antonio 
was  one  of  the  citizens,  while  Shylock  was  reckoned  among  the 
strangers  of  the  place.  And  since  the  city  was  benefited  as  much 
by  the  trade  and  commerce  of  foreigners  as  of  natives,  justice 
evidently  required  that  the  law  should  give  equal  advantages  to 
them  both.  But  to  stop  the  course  of  law  in  behalf  of  citizens 
against  strangers  would  be  putting  the  latter  at  a  disadvantage 
and  so  would  clearly  impeach  the  justice  of  the  state.  We  give 
the  passage  as  proposed  by  Capell  and  approved  by  Knight.  In 
this  reading  for  means  the  same  as  because  of — a  sense  in  which 
it  is  often  used  by  the  Poet : — 

"  The  Duke  cannot  deny  the  course  of  law, 
For  the  commodity  that  strangers  have 
With  us  in  Venice :  if  it  be  denied, 
'Twill  much  impeach  the  justice  of  the  state." 

Scene  IV. 

7.  lover : — Used  very  often  by  Shakespeare  and  other  writers  of 
his  time  for  friend.  The  Poet's  Sonnets  are  full  of  examples  in 
point. 

52.  with  imagined  speed: — That  is,  with  the  celerity  of  imagina- 
tion. So  in  the  Chorus  preceding  the  third  Act  of  Henry  V. : 
"  Thus  with  imagined  wing  our  swift  scene  flies." 

72.  /  could  not  do  withal: — A  phrase  of  the  time,  signifying  / 
could  not  help  it.  So  in  the  Morte  d' Arthur:  "  None  of  them  will 
say  well  of  you,  nor  none  of  them  will  doe  battle  for  you,  and  that 
shall  be  great  slaunder  for  you  in  this  court.  Alas  !  said  the  queen, 
/  cannot  doe  withall."  And  in  Fletcher's  Little  French  Lawyer, 
Dinant,  who  is  reproached  by  Clerimont  for  not  silencing  the 
music,  which  endangered  his  safety,  replies:  "/  cannot  do  withal; 
I  have  spoke  and  spoke ;  I  am  betrayed  and  lost  too."  And  in 
Palsgrave's  Table  of  Verbes,  quoted  by  Dyce :  "  I  can  not  do 
withall,  a  thyng  lyeth  not  in  me,  or  I  am  not  in  faulte  that  a  thyng 
is  done." 

143 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

Scene  V. 

3.  /  fear  you : — That  is,  fear  for  you,  or  on  your  account.  So 
in  Richard  III.,  I.  i. : — 

"  The  king  is  sickly,  weak  and  melancholy, 
And  his  physicians  fear  him  mightily." 

46-49.  How  every  fool,  etc. : — A  shrewd  proof  that  the  Poet 
rightly  estimated  the  small  wit,  the  puns,  and  verbal  tricks  in 
which  he  so  often  indulges.  He  did  it  to  please  others,  not 
himself. 

68  et  seq.  The  fool  hath  planted,  etc. : — Probably  an  allusion  to 
the  habit  of  wit-snapping,  the  constant  straining  to  speak  out  of 
the  common  way,  which  then  filled  the  highest  places  of  learning 
and  of  the  state.  One  could  scarce  come  at  the  matter,  it  was  so 
finely  flourished  in  the  speaking.  But  such  an  epidemic  was  easier 
to  censure  than  to  avoid.  Launcelot  is  a  good  satire  upon  the 
practice,  though  the  satire  rebounds  upon  the  Poet  himself. 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

10.  Envy  in  this  place  means  hatred  or  malice ;  a  frequent  use  of 
the  word  in  Shakespeare's  time,  as  every  reader  of  the  English 
Bible  ought  to  know. 

29.  royal  merchant: — This  epithet  was  striking  and  well  under- 
stood in  Shakespeare's  time,  when  Gresham  was  dignified  with  the 
title  of  the  royal  merchant,  both  from  his  wealth,  and  because  he 
constantly  transacted  the  mercantile  business  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
And  there  were  similar  ones  at  Venice,  such  as  the  Giustiniani  and 
the  Grimaldi. 

42  et  seq.  I'll  not  answer  that,  etc.: — The  Jew,  being  asked  a 
question  which  the  law  does  not  require  him  to  answer,  stands 
upon  his  right  and  refuses;  but  afterwards  gratifies  his  own 
malignity  by  such  answers  as  he  knows  will  aggravate  the  pain 
of  the  inquirer. 

43.  In  Shakespeare's  time  the  word  humour  was  used,  much  as 
conscience  often  is  now,  to  excuse  or  justify  any  eccentric  impulse 
of  vanity,  opinion,  or  self-will,  for  which  no  common  ground  of 
reason  or  experience  could  be  alleged.     Thus,  if  a  man  had  an 

144 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

individual  crotchet  which  he  meant  should  override  the  laws  and 
conditions  of  our  social  being,  it  was  his  humour.  Corporal  Nym 
is  a  burlesque  on  this  sort  of  affectation.  And  the  thing  is  well 
illustrated  in  one  of  Rowland's  Epigrams: — 

"  Aske  Humors,  why  a  fether  he  doth  weare? 
It  is  his  humour,  by  the  Lord,  heele  s weare." 

47.  a  gaping  pig: — A  pig  prepared  for  the  table  is  most  prob- 
ably meant,  for  in  that  state  is  the  epithet  gaping  most  applicable 
to  this  animal.  So  in  Fletcher's  Elder  Brother :  "  And  they  stand 
gaping  like  a  roasted  pig."  And  in  Nash's  Pierce  Penniless: 
"  The  causes  conducting  unto  wrath  are  as  diverse  as  the  actions 
of  a  man's  life.  Some  will  take  on  like  a  madman  if  they  see 
a  pig  come  to  the  table." 

49  et  seq.  And  others,  when  the  bagpipe,  etc.: — This  passage 
has  occasioned  a  vast  deal  of  controversy.  In  the  old  copies  it 
is  printed  thus  : — 

"And  others,  when  the  bag-pipe  sings  i'  the  nose, 
Cannot  contain  their  urine  for  affection. 
Masters  of  passion  sways  it  to  the  mood,"  etc. 

Where  the  discrepancy  of  Masters  and  sways  is  obvious  enough. 
There  had  been  a  very  general  agreement  in  the  reading  we  have 
given,  until  Collier  broke  in  upon  it.  Against  his,  and  in  favor 
of  the  received  lection,  Dyce  remarks :  "  The  preceding  part  of 
the  passage  clearly  shows  that  there  must  be  a  pause  at  urine ; 
and  also  that  for  affection  must  be  connected  with  the  next  line. 
Shylock  states  three  circumstances ;  first,  that  some  men  dislike  a 
gaping  pig;  secondly,  that  some  are  mad  if  they  see  a  cat;  thirdly, 
that  some,  at  the  sound  of  the  bagpipe,  cannot  contain  their  urine : 
and  he  then  accounts  for  these  three  peculiarities  on  a  general 
principle." 

126.  envy : — Malice,  as  before  in  line  10  of  this  Scene.  This 
passage  is  well  illustrated  by  one  in  2  Henry  IV.,  IV.  iv. : — 

"Thou  hid'st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts, 
Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart, 
To  stab  at  half  an  hour  of  my  life." 

180.  Richardson  says  :  "  In  French  and  old  English  law,  danger 
seems   equivalent   to   penalty,   damages,    commissi  poena.     Thus, 

145 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

'  Narcissus  was  a  bachelere  that  love  had  caught  in  his  daungere ; 
that  is,  within  the  reach  of  hurtful,  mischievous  power.  Thus  also, 
'  In  danger  hadde  he  at  his  owen  gise  the  yonge  girles  of  the 
diocise.'  And  in  R.  Brunne,  '  All  was  in  the  erle's  dangere.' 
And  again,  '  He  was  never  wedded  to  woman's  danger ' ;  that  is, 
woman's  dangerous  power."  Shakespeare  has  a  like  use  of  the 
word  in  his  Venus  and  Adonis:  "  Come  not  within  his  danger  by 
your  will." 

200-202.  "  Portia,  referring  the  Jew  to  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
Salvation,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer,  is  a  little  out  of  character."  So 
says  Sir  William  Blackstone ;  forgetting  that  the  Lord's  Prayer 
was  in  itself  but  a  compilation,  all  the  petitions  in  it  being  taken 
out  of  the  ancient  euchologies  or  prayer-books  of  the  Jews.  "  So 
far,"  says  Grotius,  "was  the  Lord  Himself  of  the  Christian 
Church  from  all  affectation  of  unnecessary  novelty."  So  in  Ec- 
clesiasticus,  xxviii.  2 :  "  Forgive  thy  neighbour  the  hurt  that  he 
hath  done  unto  thee,  so  shall  thy  sins  also  be  forgiven  when  thou 
prayest." 

296.  Barrabas : — Shakespeare  seems  to  have  followed  the  pro- 
nunciation usual  to  the  theatre,  Barabbas  being  sounded  Barabas 
throughout  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta. 

399.  ten  more: — To  make  up  a  jury  of  twelve  men  to  condemn 
him.  This  appears  to  have  been  an  old  joke.  So  in  The  Devil  is 
an  Ass,  by  Ben  Jonson :  "  I  will  leave  you  to  your  godfathers  in 
law.     Let  twelve  men  work." 

412.  cope : — The  only  instance,  that  Hudson  remembers  to  have 
met  with,  of  the  word  cope  being  used  in  the  sense  of  reward 
or  requite.  A  like  use  of  the  word  in  composition,  however, 
occurs  in  Ben  Jonson's  play  The  Fox,  iii.  5 : — 

"  Assure  thee,  Celia,  he  that  would  sell  thee, 
Only  for  hope  of  gain,  and  that  uncertain, 
He  would  have  sold  his  part  of  Paradise 
For  ready  money,  had  he  met  a  cope-man." 


Scene  II. 

15.  old  swearing : — Old  was  a  common  intensive  in  the  collo- 
quial language  of  Shakespeare's  time.  So  in  Much  Ado  About 
Nothing,  V.  ii. :   "  Yonder  's  old  coil  [confusion]  at  home." 

146 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

ACT  FIFTH. 

Scene  I. 

i.  There  is  such  an  air  of  reality  and  of  first-hand  knowledge 
about  this  bewitching  scene,  as  certainly  lends  some  support  to  the 
notion  of  the  Poet's  having  visited  Italy ;  it  being  scarce  credible 
that  any  one  should  have  put  so  much  of  an  Italian  moonlight 
evening  into  a  description,  upon  the  strength  of  what  he  had  seen 
in  England.  But  what  is  quite  remarkable,  the  vividness  of  the 
scene  is  helped  on  by  the  very  thing  that  would  seem  most  likely 
to  hinder  it.  The  running  of  "  in  such  a  night  "  into  such  a  vari- 
ety of  classic  allusion  and  imagery,  and  gradually  drawing  it 
round  into  the  late  and  finally  into  the  present  experiences  of  the 
speakers,  gives  to  the  whole  the  freshness  and  originality  of  an 
actual  occurrence ;  the  remembrance  of  what  they  have  read  being 
quickened  by  the  inspiration  of  what  lies  before  them. 

30-32.  she  doth  stray  about,  etc. :— One  of  the  finest  touches  in 
the  delineation  of  Portia  is  this  associating  of  a  solicitude  for 
wedded  happiness  with  the  charity  and  humility  of  a  religious  and 
prayerful  spirit.  The  binding  of  our  life  up  with  another's  natu- 
rally sends  us  to  him  who  may  indeed  be  our  Father,  but  not 
mine.  A  writer  in  the  Pictorial  edition  remarks  that  "  these  holy 
crosses,  still  as  of  old,  bristle  the  land  in  Italy,  and  sanctify  the 
sea.  Besides  those  contained  in  churches,  they  mark  the  spots 
where  heroes  were  born,  where  saints  rested,  where  travellers 
died.  They  rise  on  the  summits  of  hills,  and  at  the  intersection 
of  roads.  The  days  are  past  when  pilgrims  of  all  ranks,  from  the 
queen  to  the  beggar-maid,  might  be  seen  kneeling  and  praying 
'for  happy  wedlock  hours/  or  whatever  else  lay  nearest  their 
hearts ;  and  the  reverence  of  the  passing  traveller  is  now  nearly 
all  the  homage  that  is  paid  at  these  shrines."  The  old  English 
feeling  on  this  score  is  thus  shown  in  The  Merry  Devil  of  Ed- 
monton : — 

"  But  there  are  crosses,  wife :  here's  one  in  Waltham, 
Another  at  the  Abbey,  and  the  third 
At  Ceston ;  and  'tis  ominous  to  pass 
Any  of  these  without  a  Pater-noster." 

63-65.  Such  harmony,  etc. :— A  passage  somewhat  resembling 
that  in  the  text  occurs  in  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity  :    "  Touch- 

147 


Notes  THE  MERCHANT 

ing  musical  harmony,  such  is  the  force  thereof,  and  so  pleasing 
effects  it  hath  in  that  very  part  of  man  which  is  most  divine,  that 
some  have  thereby  been  induced  to  think  that  the  soul  itself  by 
nature  is  or  hath  in  it  harmony."  The  book  containing  this  came 
out  in  1597;  so  that  there  could  not  well  be  any  obligation  either 
way  between  Hooker  and  Shakespeare.  Of  course  everybody  has 
heard  of  "  the  music  of  the  spheres,"  an  ancient  mystery  which 
taught  that  the  heavenly  bodies  in  their  revolutions  sing  together 
in  a  concert  so  loud,  various,  and  sweet,  as  to  exceed  all  propor- 
tion to  the  human  ear.  And  the  greatest  souls,  from  Plato  to 
Wordsworth,  have  been  lifted  above  themselves,  and  have  waxed 
greater  than  their  wont,  with  an  idea  or  intuition  that  the  universe 
was  knit  together  by  a  principle  of  which  musical  harmony  is  the 
aptest  and  clearest  expression.  Perhaps  the  very  sublimity  of  this 
notion  has  furthered  the  turning  of  it  into  a  jest;  yet  there  seems 
to  be  a  strange  virtue  in  it,  that  it  cannot  die ;  and  thoughtful 
minds,  though  apt  to  smile  at  it,  are  still  more  apt  to  grow  big 
with  the  conception.     Thus  Milton,  in  his  Arcades,  speaks  of 

"  the  celestial  sirens'  harmony 
That  sit  upon  the  nine  infolded  spheres, 
And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital  shears, 
And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round, 
On  which  the'  fate  of  gods  and  men  is  wound. 
Such  sweet  compulsion  doth  in  music  lie, 
To  lull  the  daughters  of  Necessity, 
And  keep  unsteady  Nature  to  her  law. 
And  the  low  world  in  measur'd  motion  draw 
After  the  heavenly  tune,  which  none  can  hear, 
Of  human  mould,  with  gross  unpurged  ear." 

And  in  Coleridge's  Remorse,  III.  i.,  are  lines  not  unworthy  of  a 
place  beside  these,  wherein  he  speaks 

"  Of  that  innumerable  company 
Who  in  broad  circle,  lovelier  than  the  rainbow, 
Girdle  this  round  earth  in  a  dizzy  motion, 
With  noise  too  vast  and  constant  to  be  heard; 
Fitliest  unheard !    For,  O,  ye  numberless 
And  rapid  travellers  !  what  ear  unstunn'd, 
What  sense  unmadden'd,  might  bear  up  against 
The  rushing  of  your  congregated  wings?  " 

148 


OF  VENICE  Notes 

And,  finally,  Wordsworth,  in  his  magnificent  lyric  On  the  Power 
of  Sound,  thus  refers  to  the  same  great  theme : — 

"  By  one  pervading  spirit 
Of  tones  and  numbers  all  things  are  controlled, 
As  sages  taught,  where  faith  was  found  to  merit 
Initiation  in  that  mystery  old. 

The  heavens,  whose  aspect  makes  our  minds  as  still 
As  they  themselves  appear  to  be, 
Innumerable  voices  fill 
With  everlasting  harmony ; 
The  towering  headlands,  crowned  with  mist, 
Their  feet  among  the  billows,  know 
That  Ocean  is  a  mighty  harmonist ; 
Thy  pinions,  universal  Air, 
Ever  waving  to  and  fro, 
Are  delegates  of  harmony,  and  bear 
Strains  that  support  the  Seasons  in  their  round." 

124-126.  This  night  methinks,  etc. : — A  writer  in  the  Pictorial 
Shakspere  thus  remarks  upon  this  passage :  "  The  light  of  moon 
and  stars  in  Italy  is  almost  as  yellow  as  sunlight.  The  planets 
burn  like  golden  lamps  above  the  pinnacles  and  pillared  statues 
of  the  city  and  the  tree-tops  of  the  plain,  with  a  brilliancy  which 
cannot  be  imagined  by  those  who  have  dwelt  only  in  a  northern 
climate.  The  infant  may  there  hold  out  its  hands,  not  only  for 
the  full  moon,  but  for  '  the  old  moon  sitting  in  the  young  moon's 
lap  ' — an  appearance  there  as  obvious  to  the  eye  as  any  constel- 
lation." 

141.  this  breathing  courtesy : — This  complimentary  form,  made 
up  only  of  breath ;  that  is,  of  words. 

201.  Contain  was  sometimes  used  in  the  sense  of  retain.  So  in 
Bacon's  Essays :  "  To  containe  anger  from  mischiefe,  though  it 
take  hold  of  a  man,  there  be  two  things." 


149 


THE  MERCHANT 


Questions  on 
The  Merchant  of  Venice. 


i.  Do  you  classify  this  play  as  comedy,  tragedy,  or  romance? 

2.  When  was  it  written? 

3.  What  materials  from  earlier  literature  were  employed?  Com- 
pare this  play  with  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta. 

4.  What  difficulties  are  there  in  establishing  the  duration  of  the 
action? 

ACT  FIRST. 

5.  What  is  foreshadowed  in  the  mood  of  sadness  in  Antonio 
with  which  the  play  opens  ? 

6.  How  is  the  social  importance  of  Antonio  shown  in  the  dia- 
logue of  his  friends?  Wrhat  is  implied  as  to  his  dramatic  impor- 
tance in  this  play? 

7.  How  does  Antonio  answer  their  suggestions  that  either  dan- 
gers to  property  or  thoughts  of  love  disturb  him  ? 

8.  Characterize  Antonio's  speech  to  Salanio  and  Salarino  upon 
their  departure. 

9.  What  impression  does  Gratiano  make  by  his  first  speech? 
Does  Bassanio's  estimate  of  him  seem  just? 

10.  How  does  Antonio  suggest  Touchstone?  What  request  of  him 
does  Bassanio  make,  and  how  does  Antonio  answer  the  request? 

11.  Give  Bassanio's  story.  What  principal  character  is  men- 
tioned for  the  first  time? 

12.  How  do  Portia's  first  words  repeat  Antonio's?  In  both 
cases,  is  there  indicated  a  settled  trait  of  character,  or  is  there 
here  expressed  simply  a  foreboding? 

13.  What  do  we  learn  of  the  spiritual  plight  of  Portia?  How  is 
the  power  of  choice  discussed'? 

14.  Indicate  something  of  her  temperament  as  displayed  in  the 
the  power  of  choice  discussed? 

15.  How  is  Bassanio  mentioned? 

16.  What  trait  of  character  is  first  depicted  in  Shylock? 

17.  What  is  Shylock's  personal  attitude  towards  Antonio? 

150 


*  OF  VENICE  Questions 

18.  Comment  on  the  charges  against  Antonio  that  we  find  in 
Shylock's  arraignment  of  him. 

19.  What  is  the  dramatic  significance  of  Antonio's  speech  in 
Sc.  iii.,  beginning  line  130? 

20.  State  the  conclusion  of  the  bargain  with  Shylock. 

21.  Does  Antonio  show  any  suspicion  of  the  Jew's  motive? 
Account  for  the  motive  that  made  Bassanio  draw  back  from  the 
bond. 

22.  There  are  three  centres  of  interest  established  by  the  first 
Act,  that  of  the  story  of  Antonio,  the  story  of  the  Jew  (though 
these  two  are  closely  interwoven  from  the  start),  and  the  love 
affair  of  Bassanio  and  Portia.  Are  the  causes  for  the  action  laid 
out,  and  the  results  foreshadowed? 


ACT  SECOND. 

23.  Explain  the  reasons  for  the  alternations  of  the  scene  between 
Venice  and  Belmont  in  the  second  Act. 

24.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  the  scene  between  the 
Prince  of  Morocco  and  Portia? 

25.  What  is  the  episodic  value  of  Sc.  ii.  as  concerns  Launcelot 
and  Old  Gobbo?  Compare  the  foolery  of  Launcelot  with  that  of 
his  prototype  Launce  {Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona). 

26.  By  leaving  the  service  of  Shylock  for  that  of  Bassanio,  what 
function  does  Launcelot  play  in  the  development  of  the  plot? 

27.  What  engagement  does  Gratiano  enter  into  with  Bassanio? 

28.  What  is  Jessica's  feeling  towards  her  father?  How  does 
Shakespeare  furnish  justification  for  this  feeling? 

29.  How  is  Launcelot  the  agent  whereby  the  complication  is 
assisted  in  two  particulars? 

30.  For  what  is  Lorenzo's  speech  at  the  close  of  Sc.  iv.  a  prepa- 
ration ? 

31.  How  does  Shylock  show  his  malignity  in  accepting  Bas- 
sanio's  invitation  to  supper? 

32.  What  touch  to  the  friendship  of  Antonio  and  Bassanio 
does  the  end  of  Sc.  vi.  furnish? 

33.  How  does  the  Prince  of  Morocco  choose,  and  what  type 
of  mind  is  seen  in  him?  What  fitness  to  his  case  is  there  in  the 
inscription  he  finds? 

34.  Why  is  the  scene  of  Shylock's  passion  reported  by  Salanio 
not  enacted  before  the  spectators  ? 

iSi 


Questions  THE  MERCHANT 

35.  The  scene  above  mentioned,  taken  together  with  Salarino's 
report  of  the  parting  of  Bassanio  and  Antonio,  makes  Sc.  viii. 
of  what  dramatic  significance? 

36.  What  was  enjoined  upon  every  one  who  made  a  hazard  of 
his  fortunes  with  the  caskets? 

37.  What  type  of  mind  is  depicted  in  the  Prince  of  Arragon  ? 


ACT  THIRD. 

38.  Show  how  a  cumulative  effect  is  produced  by  revealing  the 
losses  of  Antonio. 

39.  How  is  there,  in  parity  with  this,  a  revelation  of  his  amiable 
qualities  ? 

40.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  the  entrance  of  Shylock  in 
Sc.  i.? 

41.  How  is  he  affected  by  the  flight  of  his  daughter? 

42.  Had  Shylock  any  knowledge  of  Antonio's  losses  as  evi- 
denced by  his  reply  to  Salarino?  Is  it  a  general  defense  of  his 
right  to  his  bond,  irrespective  of  any  knowledge  that  it  was  for- 
feit, that  he  delivers? 

43.  Show  what  essential  traits  Tubal  and  Shylock  possess  in 
common,  and  how  they  differ  in  superficial  ones. 

44.  Summarize  the  passions  displayed  by  Shylock  in  this  scene 
with  Tubal.     What  traits  are  human  and  pathetic? 

45.  What  is  Portia's  emotional  state  while  Bassanio  is  making 
the  choice  of  the  caskets?  . 

46.  Explain  the  meaning  of  fancy  in  the  song. 

47.  While  Bassanio  is  examining  the  caskets,  what  is  his  com- 
ment ? 

48.  Describe  how  Portia  expresses  the  ecstasy  of  love. 

49.  How  is  the  ring  introduced?  For  what  is  it  a  preparation? 
What  is  Bassanio's  declaration  concerning  it? 

50.  What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  the  plighting  of  Gratiano  and 
Nerissa? 

51.  What  effects  are  secured  and  what  turn  is  given  to  the 
action  by  the  entrance  of  Salerio  with  the  letter? 

52.  Indicate  the  episodic  value  of  Sc.  iii. 

53.  How  are  friendship  and  love  brought  into  consideration  in 
Sc.  iv.  ?     What  preparation  for  succeeding  action  is  here  presented  ? 

54.  Compare  Portia's  and  Jessica's  comments  on  their  masquer- 
ading as  men. 

152 


OF  VENICE  Questions 

55.  Do  you  derive  any  impression  of  Shakespeare's  own  view 
of  small  wit  and  punning,  such  as  frequently  appear  in  his  plays  r 

56.  If  he  held  them  in  slight  regard,  why  did  he  indulge  in 
them  so  much? 

ACT  FOURTH. 

57.  What  words  of  Antonio  uttered  at  the  beginning  of  the 
trial  scene  bear  out  his  attribution  of  ancient  Roman  honour? 

58.  What  appeal  for  mercy  does  the  Duke  make  to  Shylock? 

59.  By  what  oath  does  Shylock  show  the  inflexibility  of  his 
purpose? 

60.  Is  there  possibly  more  than  Shylock's  personal  animosity 
against  Antonio  that  the  Jew  gives  vent  to  in  his  reply  to  the  Duke? 

61.  How  does  Antonio,  like  Hamlet,  desire  after  his  death  to 
be  remembered  by  his  friend? 

62.  What  was  the  philosophy  of  Pythagoras? 

63.  Before  the  entrance  of  Portia,  what  balancing  of  the  claims 
of  mercy  and  justice  has  the  Scene  presented? 

64.  How  is  climax  attained  in  Portia's  speech  on  the  quality  of 
mercy? 

65.  Besides  further  exposition  of  character,  what  dramatic  ef- 
fect is  attained  by  Portia's  delay  in  coming  to  the  point  of  foiling 
Shylock? 

66.  How  is  the  dignity  and  inflexibility  of  law  preserved  against 
appeal  for  individual  clemency,  even  with  the  support  of  a  strong 
case? 

67.  How  does  the  current  of  thought  for  a  moment  drift  into 
the  channels  cut  by  the  various  correlative  actions? 

68.  Who  finally  diverts  the  current? 

69.  Was  the  trial  conducted  in  accordance  with  Roman  or 
English  law? 

70.  Indicate  the  exact  point  of  climax  in  the  play. 

71.  Was  not  the  resort  by  which  Antonio  was  saved  really  a 
quibble?     Would  it  be  supported  in  any  actual  court  of  law? 

72.  Show  how  its  use  against  Shylock  makes  an  effective  exam- 
ple of  dramatic  contrast. 

73.  What  are  the  final  struggles  of  the  Jew  before  he  surrenders 
all? 

74.  In  the  revival  of  the  old  law  to  meet  the  case  of  Shylock, 
what  supporting  argument  of  his  own,  upon  which  he  chiefly  re- 
lied, is  brought  into  vivid  contrast? 

153 


Questions 

75.  How  are  horror  and  aversion  changed  to  pity  for  the  plight 
of  the  Jew? 

76.  In  Shakespeare's  time  Shylock  was  regarded  a  comic  per- 
sonage, and  his  discomfiture  was  met  with  derisive  laughter. 
How  has  this  changed  in  our  day?  Was  it  for  the  groundlings 
that  Shakespeare  added  that  questionable  touch  which  condemns 
Shylock  to  become  a  Christian? 

yy.  Why  does  the  play  not  end  with  the  disappearance  of  Shy- 
lock? Show  the  effectiveness  of  the  idyllic  character  of  the  fifth 
Act, 

ACT  FIFTH. 

78.  What  tribute  does  Shakespeare  pay  to  the  power  of  music? 

79.  How  is  a  good  deed  compared  to  the  beams  of  a  candle? 

80.  What  inherent  suitability  to  the  spirit  of  the  play  has  the 
musical  interlude? 

81.  How  is  Antonio  connected  with  the  occasion  and  with  the 
healing  of  the  lovers'  quarrel  about  the  rings?  How  does  the 
spirit  of  comedy  come  in  to  repair  the  sufferings  of  Antonio? 


82.  What  is  the  main  action  of  this  play?  In  what  character 
does  the  chief  interest  of  the  play  reside? 

83.  How  do  you  account  for  the  apparent  dramatic  dispropor- 
tion? Does  the  perception  of  this  follow  from  the  evolution  of 
finer  aesthetic  regard? 

84.  Is  the  complexity  of  emotion  displayed  in  Shylock  equaled 
by  that  in  Portia? 

85.  Does  not  the  highly  artificial  situation  in  which  Portia  is 
placed  relative  to  the  selection  of  her  husband  impress  one  less 
strongly  than  the  story  of  Shylock,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
mind  refuses  to  accept  the  chance  of  a  mischoice? 

86.  Give  a  summary  of  the  traits  of  Antonio.  How  did  he  live 
in  the  opinions  of  his  friends? 

87.  Does  Shakespeare  seem  to  exhibit  the  caprices  of  fortune, 
or  demands  of  poetic  justice,  in  the  misfortunes  that  visit  Antonio? 

88.  Is  Gratiano  as  witty  as  Mercutio? 

89.  Is  there  anything  in  the  high  pitch  of  passion  to  which  the 
story  of  Shylock  is  carried  inconsistent  with  the  spirit  of  comedy? 

90.  Does  this  play  require  a  considerable  amount  of  comic 
relief?     Show  in  what  ways  this  is  effected. 

154 


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